Freedom's Call
by Ironsides
Summary: The final novel in the Ares Snow Trilogy after The Hunted and In Shadow's Light. The war between the United Districts of Panem and the TEC rages. Only one side will prevail. Who will live and who will die?
1. Chapter 1

"Our estimates put impact in Panem in approximately eighteen minutes," Maggie shouts.

"Does our defense shield have a shot at them?" Angus says desperately.

"Negative," Maggie says. "Their trajectories are too steep and the missiles are already leaving the atmosphere. There's nothing we can do…"

I collapse back in my chair as a single thought slams its way into my consciousness.

_"Our world is about to end."_

My mind continues to race, trying to come up with something we can do to stop those missiles. Then, it hits me. There's nothing that _we_ can do.

"Maggie!" I scream bolting over to her work station. "Get me Central Briefing at the UDP Defense Ministry."

"It will take a few minutes," Maggie says beginning to punch in the keystrokes.

"We don't have a few minutes!" I say raising my voice. I look back up to the TEC broadcast on the main screen. The view has switched from the stadium to a large map of the Atlantic. The trajectory of the missiles is being projected for the entire TEC to see. Two announcers triumphantly talk about what incredible benefits the destruction of Panem will mean for the glory of Europe. They even predict that Britannia will fall in just a few months without the help of its ally.

"I've got Captain Flagg in Central Briefing, Sir," Maggie shouts out.

"Put her on the screen!" The main screen cuts in half. On the right side is the TEC broadcast still predicting absolute victory. Amelia's terrified face appears on the left side.

"Amelia!" I shout as I see her.

"I know, Sir," she screams back. "We were monitoring the TEC broadcast as well. I've already put out the alert, but it will take at least half an hour before people start getting to shelters"

"By that time, the entire UDP will be a massive blue toxic cloud."

"Is there anything you can do in Britannia to save us?" she asks frantically.

"No, there's nothing we can do over here, Amelia. It's up to you."

"WHAT CAN WE DO?" she screams out. "When those missiles hit, everybody's going to die." I can see the panic building inside her. She starts looking around to everyone else in Central Briefing, but no one seems to have any other ideas either.

"Amelia," I say trying to get her focused, but she still doesn't look at me. "Amelia," still nothing. "CAPTAIN FLAGG!" I shout out loud enough so that everyone in both control centers looks at me.

"Yes Sir," she says fighting back tears.

"Do you still have the tunnel link into the TEC mainframe? We can't access it from over here. Only you can through the UDP network."

"Yes Sir. We still have it."

"Good, now I need you try to access the missiles' controls and activate their self-destruct systems."

"Sir, I can't…."

"Yes you can, Amelia…"

"Sir, the missile control systems are encrypted with the rest of the missile database. I can't access them…"

"YES YOU CAN!" I shout at the top of my lungs again. "Amelia, I don't want to hear that you can't. You once told me that you wanted to face a situation where your decisions were life and death. Well, _this is it_. If you don't bring those missiles down, than millions of innocent people are going to _die_."

"Eleven minutes till missile impact," Maggie says from her station.

"Did you hear that? Eleven minutes. Go Amelia!" She nods furiously and begins hammering away at the keyboard in front of her. The minutes brutally tick past one by one as Amelia hacks through line after line of TEC code trying to gain access.

"Six minutes till missile impact! The vehicles are approaching reentry," Maggie says with more urgency in her voice. I look over to the TEC broadcast. The missile position indicators are almost over Greenland.

"I'm in!" Amelia shouts out excitedly. She scans down the missile database searching for the self-destruct codes. "No…no…._no_!" she screams in terror.

"What is it?" I say beginning to panic a little myself.

"The codes aren't here! They're in another database nested inside this one and it's a completely different encryption sequence."

"C'mon Amelia. Keep going! You can do it!" She starts furiously punching keys again. Beads of sweat form on her brow as she fights against an elusive digital enemy that threatens to destroy everything that we love.

Flashes of my family slice through my consciousness. My nightmare of Lizzy and Octavian drowning in Shiver while I watch completely helpless to do anything about it burns like a flaming ember behind my eyes. I see Katniss and Peeta, trying to shield Prim and Haymitch futilely underneath their bodies while their once happy home turns into a gas chamber. Their faces begin to contort and melt in the toxic mist as their lives end in gruesome pain…

"Four minutes to impact!" Maggie shouts, mercifully cutting into my horrible visions. "The missiles have re-entered the atmosphere and are accelerating toward their targets.

"_Amelia_!" I say trying to keep her focused. She slams her hands down on her keyboard and tears begin rolling down her cheeks.

"It's no use! This algorithm is too complex. It would take me days to crack it!"

"Then there's got to be something else! Something else you can do!" My voice begins to tremble with fear as well.

"There's nothing…." Amelia says staring back at her computer screen. "There nothing we can do…." She pauses for a second. Her eyes grow wide and she wipes away her tears. "Except….the guidance system!" She starts furiously pounding at keys again.

"What about the guidance system!" I yell back at her.

"The flight logarithms, Sir," she says not taking her eyes off of the screen. "The mathematical formulas that guide the missiles onto their targets were only encrypted by the original algorithm." I begin to smile as I realize she's figured it out.

"C'mon, Amelia, you know me better than that. _English please_."

"Two minutes till impact!" Maggie says.

"I can change the missiles flight paths, Sir," Amelia says with a giant smile, "and then do this!" she slams her finger into her keyboard before looking over the to the live TEC broadcast on the screen in Central Briefing. I do the same in Tower Control.

Suddenly, the missiles flight paths become erratic. Some fly straight north toward Greenland, while others plummet southward into open ocean. In quick succession, the missile icons disappear as the signals are lost.

"You did it, Flagg!" Maggie shouts ecstatically. "The rapid course corrections were too much and the G-Forces ripped the missiles apart! Our radar shows the wreckage of all fourteen plunging harmlessly into the ocean." Both Central Briefing and Tower Control erupt in wild cheers. Amelia collapses back into her chair and finally lets herself breathe.

"Amelia, you are _amazing_." I say smiling straight at her.

"Thank you, Sir," she says fighting back tears of joy and relief.

The TEC announcers don't know what to make of the loss of the missiles.

_"We seem to be having some technical difficulties in tracking the missiles' flight paths…we now take you back to the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere in Germania Memorial Stadium…"_

The broadcast cuts back to a confused and angry Grosfrere still standing on the stage in front of his massive live audience. He looks out to see them staring back at him with the same look that an audience gives a magician who has botched a trick…._the illusion of his invincibility has been shattered on live television. _I sense a major opportunity.

"Amelia!"

"Yes Sir," she says still a little giddy from the destruction of the missiles. "Quick, before the TECs close the tunnel: patch my image through to the TEC broadcast system. I want to be on that screen in Germania stadium."

"What?" she says confused.

"Can you do it?" I say trying to get her focused again.

"Yes Sir," she says punching at her keys again.

"I need a camera!" I shout out to Tower Control.

"There Sir," Maggie says pointing to a video terminal at the work station next to her. "I'll patch you in there."

"Got it, Sir," Amelia shouts triumphantly. "You're live in the TEC in three…two…."

Suddenly, live on the TEC broadcast, my face appears fifteen stories tall directly behind the Man among Men. He turns around in shock and stares directly into my eyes.

"The TECs are fighting me, Sir!" Amelia shouts from Central Briefing. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to maintain the link."

"Just keep it as long as you can," I say trying to hold a calm, cool confidence in my words. I know that the entire enemy nation is watching me at this moment. "Noble People of the Trans-European Commonwealth," I say staring directly into the camera like it was the eyes of a whole country. "I am General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem. I am a proud servant of my country and proud ally of all the Britannic Tribes.

The reason that you did not see Grosfrere's weapons impact on Panem was that because of a brave and free woman who stood against the whims of an evil man, the missiles were destroyed before they even reached their targets. As we speak, their remains are falling harmlessly into the North Atlantic Ocean.

The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere guaranteed the destruction of Panem tonight. _He failed_! He failed because he is not omniscient, and not omnipotent. He is not a 'Man among Men.' No, he is merely a man: a weak pathetic man who maintains his grip on power by enslaving you under the threat of brute force.

The people of the TEC are intelligent. I know that somewhere, deep inside your trapped minds, you know that humans are not supposed to live as you are made to. People are not supposed to suffer under the yolk of a tyrant to satiate his lust for power and greed. You know that you must starve on rations while the leaders of the TEC feast on the fruits of your labor! You know that you are forced to suffer and toil while your overlords sit in comfort!

Behind his spy cameras, and his guns, and his threats of violence, Grosfrere is only human…._and he can be killed like anyone else_." I quickly reach down and rip the Mockingjay pin from my uniform. I hold it up to the camera, and let it burn into the psyche of the Trans-European Commonwealth like it did to the Revolutionary generation of Panem over a quarter century ago. "I am the Mockingjay, and I will fight for you…but in the end, _The Revolution is in your hands_."

At that moment, Amelia loses her fight with the TEC database, and the connection is terminated. The screen cuts to the seal of the TEC and the booming chorus of the their anthem begins to play.

"That's it, Sir," Amelia says a little drown-trodden. "The TECs closed the tunnel. We've lost our connection to their database. I'm sorry."

"Why?" I stare up at her on the screen with the biggest smile I've had in months. "We just started something that Grosfrere never dreamed would ever be possible!" I say turning around and gazing at everyone in Tower Control. Angus, Seamus, Maggie, Ratchet, Tiller, Doc, and Hatchet all look at me as if I've lost my mind…and maybe I have. "We sent out a call to the TEC tonight that won't be ignored."

"What are you talking about, Laddie?" Angus says looking back at me.

"No, I get it," Hatchet says pushing herself up to her feet. Ratchet leaps up and starts to run around the table with her crutches, but she holds up her hand to stop him. "Somewhere in the TEC, there is somebody who is tired of living in slavery. He or she will doubt themselves at first, just as they've been conditioned to. But eventually, they'll get the courage to talk about it with somebody they trust.

The movement will spread, slowly at first, but rapidly gaining more and more momentum as people take notice. Soon, Grosfrere's bombs and guns will only make the opposition more and more bold until…"

"You have a Revolution," Angus says finally understanding.

"Exactly," I whisper through a determined grin.

The barrage that the TECs submit Britannia to that night is the fiercest in the two centuries of the conflict, but the Brits fight it off with a determination and tenacity that is unheard of even for them. They understand that this is not a sign of the TEC's strength, but a sign of its weakness. Grosfrere is terrified because his people have finally heard Freedom's Call…


	2. Chapter 2

A year passes. Britannia shared her secrets of developing an impenetrable missile defense shield with the UDP government in the Capitol, but luckily, Panem's newest strength has never been tested by the TECs. Grosfrere's ongoing propaganda states it is because the Trans-European Commonwealth has decided that launching further attacks would be counterproductive against bringing the population of the UDP into the peaceful fold of his followers, but everyone, including the TEC civilians, knows the truth: the TEC no longer has the manpower at its disposal to create another batch of ICBMs.

Pierre Grosfrere's aire of invincibility was destroyed the night of the failed attack on Panem. His people heard my message, and many of them chose to act. Parts of the TEC that were not occupied by large amounts of troops soon fell into chaos. Grosfrere had to switch his strategy from one of domination and intimidation to one of containment. Thousands of innocents have died in reprisal attacks from his counter-insurgency campaigns, but in the end, they have done nothing but fan the flames of rebellion. Tragically, his total stranglehold on the resources of the TEC has proven to be enough to maintain his government. However, the overwhelming sense both in the Capitol and London is that the TEC is now a house of cards just waiting for a strong enough breeze to blow it down.

President Holmes has established a regular traffic of ships and supplies from Panem's eastern shores to Britannia. Food, fuel, and ammunition arrives at British ports in ever increasing numbers, however the one thing that Angus keeps requesting the most has proven to be elusive: men and women from the UDP who are ready to fight.

I explain to Angus at our meetings that an army large enough to challenge the TEC does not come quickly, but he seems to be increasingly more and more impatient every day and our relationship is becoming strained as a result.

"If Holmes expects Britannia to fight this war for her, she is sadly mistaken. Does she think Britannia is an ally or a servant?" Angus asked me in Tower Control last week. It is a wound to my heart that is not easily healed.

To distract myself from the difficulties of diplomacy and the pain of not having held my wife or son for almost fifteen months, I have begun taking the fight to the shores of the TEC itself. The raids are more for morale than tactical gains. The TEC will never collapse or surrender because of them, but at least it shows our allies both in Britannia and the TEC that Panem is still willing to fight…

Norwegia is a large, mostly uninhabited peninsula across the North Sea from Britannia. The brutally cold and harsh landscape has forced the small population to live along a few, small ocean inlets in the southwest. Grosfrere and his predecessors have never been popular among the native fisherman and subsistence farmers, but Norwegia's easy access to the seas around Britannia has made it a popular garrison for the TEC's small navy of patrol boats that enforce the blockade along the eastern coast of Britannia. As a result, the Norwegians have been forced to endure horrible hardships at the hands of the TEC troops stationed along their harbors.

Two young Norwegian women walk along the rocky path leading past a TEC naval base. They wear thick leather cloaks to shield themselves from the bitter cold. Their platinum blonde hair sticking out from their fur-lined hoods hides their faces. One carries a wicker basket in the crook of her right arm.

In the inlet below, dozens of TEC patrol boats lie at anchor, watched over by two batteries of anti-aircraft cannons. The TECs in their blue armor lounge in the overcast sunlight. The war is a long way away for them. The Norwegians with their paltry numbers dare not rise up against Grosfrere's forces here, and the inlets lined with cannons and missiles scare away any chance of a British air attack.

The women approach the front gates of the base. A TEC in a guard tower lazily leans on his machine gun. Lunch is approaching and he sees the basket that the first woman is carrying. It is identical to the ones that Norwegian wives use to carry food from their homes to their husbands on the fishing boats that dock about a mile down the inlet from here. The TEC tower guard gestures down to two of his comrades that are on gate guard below. He knows that the smoked fish and salty rolls that the women are carrying will be infinitely preferable to the dehydrated ration packs that he normally has to choke down. The two TECs below nod in agreement and march over to the women.

The two terrified maidens stop and stare at the ground, afraid to look the soldiers in their black, faceless visors.

"What is your purpose and destination?" one of the TEC guards says to the woman with the basket.

"My husband will be coming in soon from his morning fishing trip," she says in a thick local accent. "He's expecting me with his food."

"Just take it already!" The guard in the tower shouts at him. "I'm getting hungry up here." The TEC soldier reaches over to steal the basket from the maiden, when fast as lightning, the second woman reaches out and grabs his wrist with an iron grip.

"What are you doing?" the TEC soldier shouts angrily, but before he can pull away the woman kicks her foot right into his chest and he collapses the ground. The second TEC tries to raise his rifle, but she has already pulled a throwing axe from behind her back and hammers it right into his face. Hatchet spins out of the leather cloak she was wearing, grabs the dead TEC's rifle, and dispatches the first TEC she kicked to the ground with a quick burst of rounds. The tower guard cocks his machine gun but Hatchet is already moving. She fires up at him and nails the guard square in the chest.

The other young woman sees her chance and starts running. She charges forward toward the gate and throws her basket with all her might before breaking right and diving into the trees.

_"BOOM!"_ The basket explodes into a massive fireball, blowing the front gate apart like it was made of tissue paper.

"Let's go!" I shout from the tree line. I charge forward with Ratchet, Tiller, Doc, and a hundred screaming highlanders right behind me. We reach Hatchet and I unsling her rifle from my back. I throw it to her and she catches it before tossing the TEC weapon to the dirt.

"Thanks," she says with a satisfied grin. "Those TEC rifles are garbage."

"Nicely done back there," I say as we run through the breach in the front gate.

"It was simple," she replies. "They never suspect anyone with boobs."

We sprint forward into the TEC base. The disoriented garrison tries to rally to defend itself, but the confused soldiers running out from the buildings make easy prey for our raiding party. We reach a crossroads overlooking the inlet. I tell the leader of the highlanders to break west and head for the first anti-aircraft battery. I and the rest of my team head east to the second one.

The five of us don't get very far before the TEC anti-aircraft crew opens fire right onto our position with a machine gun. We dive for cover behind a concrete storehouse just as the bullets begin peppering the ground around us.

"Ratchet, I believe it's time for our special surprises," I say. He unslings two plastic tubes from his back and throws them to me and Hatchet.

"Sure, make the mechanic carry everything," he mutters.

"Because that's all a mechanic is good for in combat, Grease Monkey," Hatchet says unscrewing the end of her plastic tube and pulling out a rocket launcher.

"Jeez, _Love you too_, _Dear_," he says indignantly.

"Love is not what we do out here. It's when we get back to my room at _The Three Foxes_," Hatchet says with a chuckle.

"Man," Doc says gagging a little. "Is it just me, or does everyone else feel that it's like hearing your brother and sister talk about having sex."

"Any issues on that subject should be brought up with your Platoon Sergeant, Doc," I say prepping my rocket launcher.

"But she's the platoon sergeant," Tiller says with a grin.

"Exactly," I reply. "Ready, Hatch?"

"On three, Sir," she says. "One…two…"

"Three!" I shout. We both spin around the corner of the storehouse and take aim at the anti-aircraft battery. We pull the triggers simultaneously and send two rockets screaming at the TECs. They disappear in a brilliant flash of smoke and shrapnel.

We run up to the remains of the anti-aircraft guns with our rifles at the ready. The TECs on the machine gun have been vaporized. Hatchet, Ratchet, and I break to the left while Tiller and Doc go to the right.

"We're clear on this side," Hatchet shouts peering around the edge of the guns. A TEC who had taken cover behind the concrete supports jumps out and points his weapon at her back, but Tiller instantly has his sights on him and sends the enemy to the ground with a burst from his assault rifle.

"Now, we're clear on this side as well," he says. Hatchet spins around and thanks him with a quick nod. We hear gunfire to the west and look down the mountainside to see the highlanders swarming over the other battery. Suddenly, my earpiece comes to life.

_"Mockingjay, this is Claymore 6,"_ a voice says in a thick highland accent. _"Western battery is out of commission."_

"Acknowledged, Claymore 6," I say clicking my transmit button. "Eastern battery is neutralized as well. Do you copy our traffic Falcon 1?"

_"Roger, Mockingjay. This is Falcon 1 starting our attack run now."_

We look down to the inlet below. The TEC patrol boats have seen that their anti-aircraft cover has been destroyed and are desperately trying to flee to the open sea, but it is too late. A squadron of British hovercraft come screaming out of the sky and make quick work of the entire TEC fleet. Soon, all that is left is a field of debris resting at the bottom of the Norwegian fjord.

When the falcons have completed their business with the TECs, they continue to circle over our heads to provide cover as another flight of hovercraft lands just inside the destroyed gate to transport us back to Britannia. We link up with the highlanders and congratulate them on their exceptional performance. As our allies climb onboard the hovercraft, I look over to see the leather-cloaked Norwegian woman walk out of the smoke and over to me.

She stands in front of the five of us and pulls back her hood. Despite the strong recommendation from the Norwegian resistance, I hesitated to use her for this dangerous mission considering she was only eighteen years old. The long blonde braids that hung from the sides of her head and her deep blue eyes made her only seem younger, but as she spoke to me, the quiet ferocity in her voice made me realize that she was, in fact, the perfect candidate.

"Thank you, Maia," I say staring into her eyes. "You were very brave today."

"You can really thank me by winning this war and freeing us from the tyranny of the Lawgivers once and for all, Mockingjay," she replies back in her thick Norwegian accent.

"Are you sure you don't want to come back to Britannia with us?" Hatchet asks. "The TECs will be looking for you after this attack."

"No," Maia replies immediately, "the rebels are already massing in the mountains for our next offensive. If Norwegia ever hopes to be free and independent, than we must have the courage to stand on our own." Hatchet smiles back at her. I know she admires Maia's courage.

"Good luck then to you, Maia. _May the odds be ever in your favor_," I say with a smile.

"Good luck to _you_, Mockinjay," she replies. "These mountains have been the ally of the Norwegians since the time the ancient gods walked with our ancestors. They will fight with us. When you go after Grosfrere, you will have to fight on the land of _his_ ancestors, and you will be alone."

"Not quite," I say looking at the team around me that has become a part of my family. "_I will never have to fight alone_."


	3. Chapter 3

After a night's recovery, the five of us join Angus and Seamus in Tower Control for the morning teleconference with Central Briefing back in the Capitol.

"Good morning, everybody," I say with an encouraging grin toward Angus.

"Morning, Laddie," he says dispassionately, not taking his eyes of a pile of papers in front of him.

_ "Glad to see your mood is so much improved today,"_ I grumble to myself in my head as I take my seat next to him. Hatchet pulls out a chair next to mind and drops down like she owns the place. I crack a bit of a grin at her antics. One of the things I love most about my partner in crime is her ability to feel comfortable no matter the place or circumstances. Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller take their usual seats across the table from us. They're all still arguing about the results of a card game they were playing with a few Brit pilots last night in the bar at _The Three Foxes_.

"All, I'm saying is who in their right mind discards a pair of nines?" Ratchet says scowling at Doc.

"Look, I told you_, I'm sorry_. I thought we had it locked up with our straight the last hand."

"Well, obviously we didn't and now we're stuck doing lube orders on half a squadron of hovercraft that aren't even ours!"

"Yeah, man," Tiller throws in. "You have no idea how bad it is to have to drain that much hydraulic fluid out of an engine drive."

"That's why they call it _'gambling'_, fellas," Hatchet says to them from across the table. "You, don't always win."

"Again, I said I'm sorry and I'll help you guys out as much as I can." Ratchet and Tiller exchange glances and then burst into laughter.

"Listen, Doc," Ratchet says catching his breath. "You may be the best surgeon in the land when it comes to people, but you're worthless when it comes to machines."

"Hope you like being the drip pan dude." Tiller says with a grin.

_"The what?"_ Doc asks nervously.

"_The drip pan dude_: when you pull the drain plugs, all of the old oil and fluid rushes out at once and a guy has to stand underneath the hovercraft with a rubber pan and catch it so it doesn't spill all over the ground. Traditionally, it goes to the most inexperienced member of the team…_which happens to be you_," Ratchet says staring Doc in the face.

"_Bring a towel_," Tiller says with a smile. I hold back laughter as I imagine Doc covered in black, smelly grease from head to toe.

Suddenly, I feel a massive thud hit the table next to me. I look over to see Seamus towering above me with his arm extended and elbow resting on the table

"Not again," I say to him with sigh.

"C'mon, boyo," he says in his deep bass voice. "You're not scared are you?"

"No," I say, "It's just you win every time. I mean, your bicep in the size of my head. How could you not?"

"You're due for a bit of luck, Laddie. C'mon."

"Alright," I say resting my elbow on the table and gripping his massive hand.

"On my go," Hatchet says with one of her evil grins. "Ready…set…go!" I push against Seamus' arm, but I might as well be pushing against a freight train. My hand is slammed into the briefing table with a force strong enough to make the entire thing bounce off the ground.

"_Ow_," I say shaking my wrist as the giant lets me go.

"Best two out of three," he says laughing.

"No!" I shout. Seamus smiles from ear to ear and takes his seat back down at the table. "By the way Chief, I have to commend you for the outstanding performance of your highlanders yesterday. They fight like it's their blood."

"That's because it is, Laddie…"

Angus bangs his hands down on the table in front of him and gets everyone's attention.

"If you all are done acting like arses, it's time for the meeting. Maggie, patch us through to Panem."

"Yes Sir," she says meekly punching a few keys. I stare at Angus with a concerned look, but he just ignores me and goes back to studying his papers.

The static on the main screens clears into a picture of Amelia and President Holmes.

"Do you have us loud and clear, Tower Control?" Amelia says.

"Roger that, Central Briefing," I say with a smile as I hear her voice. "By the way, I believe congratulations are in order, _Major Flagg_," I say looking at the new rank insignia on Amelia's shirt.

"Thank you, Sir. It was _a long time coming_," she says back at me with a shrewd grin.

"Is that sass I hear in little Amelia Flagg's voice?" I say with a chuckle. "I think I like this new Chief Operations Officer you have there, Madame President. Did she come with the new building as well?"

Due to the mission yesterday, we missed the broadcast of the dedication of the newly reconstructed Defense Ministry and Presidential Mansion. The mansion was totally restored to its previous grandeur before Ohm's bombs leveled the original building over a year ago. The Ministry, on the other hand, was completely remodeled. The old building was a pre-revolution homage to the Peacekeeper's grip on an enslaved Panem with its patronizing murals of idealized life in Coriolanus Snow's police state. The new Ministry, however, is a vision of hope for the future. It's stone façade is decorated with the marble reliefs of fourteen goddesses, each dressed in the traditional garb of the thirteen districts and the Capitol. They all side by side with arms linked in an impenetrable phalanx that symbolically protects the nation from any threat. The message is clear: out of many, we have become one.

"I didn't think so," President Holmes says with a smile, "but I kind of like her as well." Amelia looks down as her cheeks turn beet red. "I think I'll let her stick around. Now, to business, General Snow."

"Yes, Ma'am," I say turning serious.

"I received your report on the Norwegia raid this morning, and I want to extend my congratulations. Forty-two TEC vessels destroyed with no friendly casualties. Plus, you say you were able to establish friendly relations with the Norwegian resistance cell on the ground?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I say looking up to her face on the screen. "The loss of that base will severely degrade the TEC's ability to maintain a presence in the eastern waters of Britannia. Considering the western ports are already receiving war materials from Panem faster than they can be processed for distribution, it would be my suggestion both to you and to War Chief McFadden that we establish a few shipping centers on the eastern coast as well.

It would mean a slightly longer trip for some Panem cargo vessels, but it would greatly increase the efficiency of the British War effort in receiving the necessary provisions."

"I have no problems with that as long as War Chief McFadden is in agreement." We look to Angus who merely waves his hand and grunts a muffled approval. "Very well," President Holmes continues. "Make the necessary preparations, Major Flagg. You should see the first arrivals to the eastern coast of Britannia the week after next, Chief McFadden."

"Yes Ma'am," Amelia says making a few notes. Angus continues to ignore President Holmes.

"Chief McFadden?" President Holmes asks again, not accustomed to being ignored. All of us in Tower Control stare at him with blank, confused faces. Finally, Maggie speaks up for him.

"Understood, Madame President," she says respectfully. "We will send you the coordinates to the beach heads by the beginning of the new week."

"Thank You," President Holmes says not taking her eyes off of Angus. I suddenly get the distinct impression that an international incident is about to occur in front of me. "Chief McFadden," President Holmes says adding a strong tone of disapproval to her voice. "Have I offended you in some way that I must make amends for?" Angus still does not look up from his papers. "CHIEF MCFADDEN ANSWER ME!"

"Excuse me?" he says calmly as he finally looks up at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

"_Was I talking to you?_" Driva booms in her angriest tone. Angus is seemingly unfazed. The rest of us, including Seamus the Bruce, clandestinely push a few inches back from the table. We know better than to interfere when the world leaders are fighting. "It's just I don't appreciate being totally ignored when Panem is providing your country with thousands of tons a week of supplies and the best military advisors I have at my disposal to help you fight against an enemy that has threatened your country's existence for hundreds of years!"

"You don't like being ignored," Angus says simmering. "YOU DON'T LIKE BEING IGNORED!" he shouts at the top of his lungs. He reaches down and grabs the papers he has been studying intently since my arrival. "Do you know what these are Madam President?" Angus asks condescendingly. "These are the latest civilian casualty reports from around Britannia. Do you know that we've had more civilian deaths in TEC attacks around Britannia in the past five months than we've had in the past five years? My people are _dying_, Madame President. All the beans and bullets in the world are shite to me if I don't have anyone left to use them. I am not a mercenary, Holmes. WHEN WILL PANEM JOIN IN THIS FIGHT WHERE IT COUNTS..._on the ground_?"

"Chief McFadden," President Holmes begins cautiously. "Every factory and arsenal in the UDP is now completely geared to the war effort. Lines at UDP Defense Force recruiting centers are around the block. We are training and equipping our army and navy as fast as we can, but you have to understand that building such a massive force takes time…."

"I'm tired of hearing your political bull..." Angus says uncharacteristically unprofessionally. _"When will they arrive?"_ President Holmes first turns to Amelia and then looks down at me. It is not often that I see her without an answer, and it is very disconcerting.

"Chief," she says in the most understanding tone she can muster, "right now, I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with the answer: _soon_."

"Soon…" Angus says trailing off. "Soon…." He pushes back from the table, gathers his papers, and rises to his feet. "I have to brief the War Council in one hour." He says burning holes into the image of Driva with his eyes. "Myself, and many leaders in that chamber are all thinking the same thing: the UDP is not serious about this fight. You stand on your polished podiums and espouse these lofty, sacred ideals of personal liberty and human rights, and you're perfectly happy throwing your huge amounts of money and resources at the problem, but when it actually comes to making the hard sacrifices: _laying down your lives for the ideals of freedom_….well, we're starting to think that you're a bunch of cowards."

My eyes flash over to Hatchet who has a look of burning rage on her face. I can sense she's about to fly to her feet and dive for Angus, but I reach out and hold her down. She flashes an angry look at me, but I just slowly shake my head back and forth until she leans back in her chair again. Angus merely says one more phrase:

"A word of warning, Madame President," he says to Driva who just stares back at him in silent humiliation, "Britannia does not make allies with cowards." Angus turns his back to her and begins moving toward the door. A beeping alarm that echoes through both Tower Control and Central Briefing stops him.

"What is it, Maggie?" He asks running over to her. The image of Amelia on the screen also reaches for a computer terminal that she pulls in front of her.

"We're receiving a mass transmission on the TEC public broadcast system. It's going to every television and video terminal on the continent."

"Is it Grosfrere," I ask walking over to them.

"No," Amelia says from Central Briefing in total shock. "_This isn't possible…_"

"Patch it through," Angus orders Maggie who immediately complies. The screen in Tower Control splits in half again, and we watch Amelia and Driva's stunned expressions as they see what we're watching simultaneously. The TEC broadcast is black at first, but soon the booming chorus of music begins:

_Allons enfants de la Patrie,_

_La jour de gloire est arrive!_

"That's ancient Francic," Maggie says to everyone. "My grandmother could speak it, but it's been banned in the TEC for almost a hundred and fifty years as 'counter to European unity." The music continues:

_Aux armes, citoyens,_

_Formez vos bataillons,_

_Marchons, marchons!_

_Qu'un sang impur_

_Abreuve nos sillons!_

The music fades, and an image appears on the screen that no one could have ever expected.


	4. Chapter 4

Three men and two women stand in what appears to be a crumbling warehouse's basement. On the dingy brick wall behind them is a simple banner divided into three solid sections of blue, white, and red. Even though the flag the rebels have chosen is unassuming, it is striking in its simplicity. They are dressed in a random collection of antique clothing and rags that gives them the appearance of being some kind of traveling band of highwaymen or rogues. This impression is aided by the fact that each one of them has their face totally concealed except for their eyes. However, the most surprising thing of all is that each one of them is armed. The idea of a civilian in the TEC having a weapon was unthinkable until the attacks on TEC soldiers began a few months ago.

"So, I'll be the one to ask the question," Hatchet says to everyone as we stare at the screen in disbelief. "Why are they dressed like a bunch of gypsies getting ready to go trick-or-treating?"

"Clothing is not easy to come by in the Trans-European Commonwealth," Angus says quietly. "Except for the standard white jumpsuit that's issued to all citizens, you either make it or find it. They'll probably wearing outfits that were stitched during the _Century of Pain_ over two hundred years ago."

"Hope they washed them first," Hatchet quips under her breath.

"My fellow citizens," The TEC in the center of the group begins to speak in a thick Francian accent. The other four stand or sit speechlessly around him, staring at the camera in silent fury as they brandish their rifles. "Today, we have finally been able to access the TEC broadcast network to bring you our message of revolution. There is no doubt that the forces of Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere are trying to silence our broadcast and trace our location, so we must be brief…"

"_Then get on with it, Man_," Angus mutters under his breath.

"Just over a year ago," the Francian Rebel continues, "An inhuman attack occurred on the sacred earth of _La Belle Francia_, in which over four thousand innocent men, women, and children were burned alive by incendiary bombs dropped indiscriminately from attacking hovercraft.

We were told that this was an act of savage aggression by the United Districts of Panem that warranted the use of weapons of mass destruction in response. Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere ordered an attack that would have killed millions, asking us to accept that this was because the people of Panem tried to destroy us first…however, _this is a lie!_"

"Glad to see somebody down there has some sense," Ratchet says with relief.

"Yeah, the question is whether or not the other TECs will believe them," I respond.

Grosfrere said that there were no survivors of the attack on Francia, but he was _wrong _just as he has been wrong about so much else."

"WHAT?" All of us in Tower Control say simultaneously. The rebel leader gestures to a female fighter just to his right. She rises to her feet and steps off screen for a brief moment. When she reappears, she is leading a young girl of perhaps seven or eight by the hand. She places the child directly in front of the camera. The girl wears a cloth wrapped around her face like the others, and all that is visible is her dark brown eyes.

The girl stares at us for a few more seconds, before nervously looking back over her shoulder to the rebel leader.

"It is alright, _Cherie_," he says with a soft kindness in his voice. "They must see what was done to you so that there can be justice." The little girl looks back directly at the camera and unwraps the rags from her face. There is not a single person watching in Tower Control that does not gasp in horror at what is revealed. Even Hatchet, the hardened warrior that she is, covers her face with her hands and I see tears start to form in her eyes.

"Who could do that to an innocent child?" Hatchet gasps wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"I think we already have the answer to that, Sergeant," I say holding back my own nauseous stomach.

The left half of the child's face is that of a gorgeous little girl, innocent and young . The right half, is a twisted mass of charred scar tissue stretched over skull.

"Tell them, _Cherie_," the rebel leader says. "Tell them your story."

"My name is Cosette," the disfigured girl begins with quiet trepidation. "I am from the Village Francia 26709, and I am seven and a half years old…" She pauses unsure of herself and looks back to the rebel leader again.

"You are doing wonderfully, Cosette," he says still smiling at her with his eyes. "Please, just tell them what you told me."

"One day, a bunch of people were brought to our village," the little girl begins again. "They weren't from Francia. My mommy said that they were bad people from Panem that the Supreme Lawgiver had brought here to punish.

They started working at a place nearby. We didn't see them much, but they never seemed like bad people to me. The soldiers just were very mean to them. The soldiers made them work a lot for a long time, until one night. I was asleep in my bed, and then I heard a loud boom. I looked out my window and saw a big fire burning on the mountains north of my house. A lot of soldiers went to go see what happened, but then we heard a lot of guns shooting, and the soldiers came back.

Then, a bunch of hovercraft came from the sky. My daddy came and grabbed me and my brother and took us downstairs. He said that they weren't TEC ships, but they were ships from Britannia. Then the Britannia hovercraft killed all the TEC soldiers and left." The rebel leader interrupts for a brief second.

"Did the British hovercraft hurt anybody who wasn't a soldier?"

"No, they just hurt the soldiers at the camp. The only thing they dropped on the village was a bunch of papers that my mommy and daddy wouldn't let us see, but I saw them anyway. It said we should fight the Supreme Lawgiver, which I thought was really bad back then."

"What happened next, _Cherie_?"

"We went to see if we could help any of the TEC soldiers, but they were all dead. When the sun came up, it was my job to go and get our breakfast rations from the market. On my way back home, I heard more hovercraft. I thought it was the people from Britannia coming back so I got scared and hid in a drainage sewer that I played in sometimes with my brother. I looked up to the sky and saw the ships…but the ships didn't look like the ones from the last night. They were blue and had the big TEC seal on their wings." The girl starts to get more and more overcome with emotion as she continues. "They started dropping bombs all over the Village that exploded into bright hot flames. I head people screaming and crying, and I got even more scared. So I went down more into the drainage pipe. Then something on fire came dripping down the pipe and hit me in the face. It burned and hurt a lot and then my face turned like this…." The girl starts weeping as her memories return. The rebel leader motions for the female fighter to take Cosette away.

"The poor victim who just spoke to you, somehow survived by herself in the sewers for over two days until she was found by a farmer from the next valley over. Luckily, he had the sense to not report her to the authorities and take care of her himself until she was well enough to tell her story.

The truth is plain, my fellow citizens, to cover up his defeat and whatever activities Grosfrere was conducting in Cosette's valley, he ordered an entire population of innocent, loyal people _burned alive_.

Grosfrere may be of Francian blood, but true children of Francia know that no fellow compatriot with any shred of humanity could do this to his own people. Therefore, tonight, in view of millions of witnesses, I hereby announce the formation of the Francian Resistance!

We will fight against the despotism of the evil men who enslave us and, if necessary, sacrifice our lives so that our children will breathe free of a murderous tyrant! To Arms, Citizens of Francia! Form your battalions…"

"We've got to do something to help them, Sir," Ratchet says turning to me. "After all, it was our raid that led to that attack."

"Angus," I say turning to my old friend and hoping that there is still enough good blood between us. "With your permission, I would like to order supply drops over the Francian countryside. Food, ammunition, medical supplies, anything that we can spare to help them form a real threat to Grosfrere's powerbase…"

"Also," the Francian rebel leader continues. Suddenly, his image begins to fade in and out. Obviously, the TEC has found a way to start blocking his transmission. "To my fellow freedom fighters around Europe, join the struggle with us. From Iberia in the west to the Polskian Steppes in the East, we can end our oppression if we just rise up and fight! Yes, we may die, but if we do nothing, we will never really live." His image begins cutting in and out even more dramatically now. I now offer one more phrase to all those watching…" He holds his hands over his head in the TEC sign of victory, but instead of the usual ode to the Lawgivers he says something different:

E PLURIBUS UNUM EUROPA

The screen finally fades into static.

"We've lost the transmission, Sir," Maggie says.

"Can you trace its location?" Angus asks her.

"Negative Sir," Maggie replies. It was fed into the TEC broadcast network so that the origin would be unknown. Obviously, those rebels knew what they were doing.

"Well, that's somewhat encouraging," he mutters.

"Angus," I ask him again. "If you want to limit the number of British lives you risk until Panem arrives than this is the way to do it. They're willing to fight," I say pointing at the blank screen. "They just need our help to do it."

"So, you're telling me now that Britannia finally has enough supplies to actually carry the fight to the Techies for the first time in two hundred years, that I should order my people to randomly scatter precious rations to the winds across the European continent in the blind hope that they will find their way into the hands of a bunch of poorly trained freedom fighters that _might_ help our cause!"

"Yes, because it wasn't that long ago that I was having a similar conversation with President Holmes about an island named Britannia. You're a good man, Angus, a _better _one than I am. I know that things look bleak now, but forget politics. Warrior to warrior, we have to maintain our focus. Those fighters have done something so brave that we _must_ fight for it or else this war will be for nothing.

"And what is that, Ares?" Angus asks.

"They've taken responsibility for their own destiny. _They_ will be the ones that build a new TEC: free and independent of Grosfrere."

Angus gives me the look he gets when he knows he's being buttered up. It's all I can do not to smile because I know that means he will eventually agree with my logic.

"Maggie!"

"Yes Sir?" she says quietly.

"Get the intelligence boys spun up. I want a list of coordinates that they feel will be best for supply drops in Francia, Deutschland, and the Polskian Steppes."

"Yes Sir," Maggie says making a few notes. Angus storms out of Tower Control to his meeting with the War Council. I walk over to Maggie and lean on her work station.

'I knew he would come around…"

"Did you Sir?" she says to me with a sarcastic grin.

"You know, I'm sorry to be making so much extra work for you lately."

"Don't mind at all, Sir," Maggie says not taking her eyes off her screen. "It's my job after all." She really does remind me of Amelia, only with dirty blonde hair and a bit more of an attitude.

"Does Angus ever thank you?" I say curiously.

"Oh, not at work, Sir," she says very directly, "but when he tries to flirt at the pub, he can be a real sweetheart."

"What?"

"He's been trying to get me to go on a date with him for almost four years, Sir."

"And you keep saying 'no' to the War Chief? You've got more guts than I thought."

"I don't want to date my boss!" Maggie says indignantly. "That'd be just ridiculous. Plus, being the War Chief's chosen one is a nightmare. You have to make public appearance after public appearance and for some bloody reason, everyone always cares about what clothes you're wearing…."

"Well, if Angus knows you feel this way, then why does he keep asking?"

"Unfortunately, I might still be giving him a little hope…"

"How?"

"I tell him that I'll say 'yes' when the war's over, Sir,"

_ "In that case, I'll see what I can do about that," _I think to myself with a chuckle. _"After all, it's the least I can do for Angus considering what he's done for me."_


	5. Chapter 5

"Really? _Angus and Maggie_?" Lizzy says with a smile through the screen at me. I was able to convince Maggie and Angus to let me hold onto my private video terminal in my room at _The Three Foxes_. Now, that things have settled down in the past few months, I'm able to get into regular contact with Lizzy back in District 4. Unfortunately, Octavian has still been a bit of a problem.

He's growing up faster than I could have ever imagined. Now, I've not only missed his first words, but also his first steps and his first full sentences. As much as it kills me inside to be apart from him, I have to admit we're at least making progress. Thanks mostly to Lizzy's insistence, he at least recognizes me now, though he's still very stand-offish whenever I try to talk to him.

"I know," I say leaning back on my bed and pulling my assault rifle apart. Lizzy was annoyed at this for the first few weeks, but now she understands that I have to multi-task in my limited free time. Getting to talk to her also means that I have to clean my weapons at the same time. "Apparently, he's been trying to date her for four years. She just won't say yes until the war's over."

"Ha!" Lizzy says happily. "Well, it sounds like from the way you tell it, you're thinking about pulling out that old _Ares Snow: Matchmaker_ routine of yours." Lizzy has come to know my British compatriots through my detailed stories and now insists on gossiping about them with me every time we talk.

"Since when have I ever been a matchmaker?" I say pulling my rifle's bolt carrier out of the receiver and wiping the grease off it with a towel.

"_Oh please_, Ares," Lizzy says rolling her eyes at me. "It's almost like you forget that I'm your wife sometimes. Remember three years ago when Jenny started working in the Psychology Department at the University with me?"

"Jenny….yeah, I forgot about her," I say sheepishly. "How is she doing anyway?" I ask banging the bolt assembly on my nightstand and knocking out the firing pin.

"Better than she was when she was dating Major Greenleafe…."

"I told you that Todd was a very nice man and I thought they would be very happy together."

"Well, Todd was a very nice man but he definitely wasn't the type that Jenny was looking for. I mean, he spilled that whole bottle of wine on her on their first date."

"Ok, Liz, _I got it_. Just because two people seem like they would be good together doesn't mean they will be."

"There you go, Ares. Just promise me you won't mess with Angus and Maggie too much. I really like both of them."

"_Alright…_" I quietly mutter.

"What was that? Didn't quite hear you, Ares."

"I promise," I say with a frustrated grumble as I yank the spring out of my rifle out of the receiver next and throw it down on the table. The sun is close to its apex here in Britannia, but the day is just beginning in Panem.

"Better," Lizzy says to me with a smile. I look past her to see the rising sun coming over the waves of the sea outside of the cottage she and Octavian share with Finnick. Lizzy has taken an indefinite leave of absence from the Capitol University where she is an associate professor of Psychology. Now, she conducts research and writes on her own while spending most of her time raising our son. I could never hope to repay Lizzy for the hardships she has been willing to endure for our family…and despite the secret jealously I feel toward Finnick as he gets to see my son grow up instead of me, I can never repay him for his amazing love and kindness towards us either.

Lizzy stares at me through the screen her sea-green eyes.

"I love you, _my amazing husband_," she quietly whispers across the world to me.

"and I love you, _my gorgeous, genius wife_." I pause and look away from her for a second. I grab a metal pick and starts mindlessly scrapping some mud off the muzzle of my barrel. "Is Octavian out with Finnick?" I ask already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Lizzy responds somewhat nervously. "They've been out in the boat fishing since an hour before dawn. Octavian is really starting to love it."

"That's wonderful…" I say trying to hide my envy of Finnick.

"Finnick has even started showing him to weave a fishing net."

"Weave a fishing net?" I say surprised. "Octavian's only two!"

"You're forgetting, Babe," Lizzy says batting her eyes at me in a way that still makes my heart flutter, "he's an Odair. It's in our blood." I laugh out loud.

"Of course, how could I be so stupid," I say sarcastically. "I suppose I should be happy," I say staring out of my window out over the London skyline. "I did tell Katniss that I wanted him to be a fisherman instead of a soldier. That way he doesn't ever have to know any of this mess…"

"Do you _really_ mean that?" Lizzy asks raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," I say looking back at her image on the screen. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because Octavian may be half Odair, but he's also half _Snow_, Ares."

"_Unfortunately_…." I mutter to myself.

"Dammit Ares!" Lizzy shouts. "I really thought you were past this self-denigrating bull…" Lizzy says speaking directly from her inner-strength. It catches my attention instantly. "Haven't I explained to you time and time again why I fell in love with that cocky young officer who suckered me into having dinner with him that night after a psychology lecture? It's because whether or not you actually felt the confidence on the inside, you still let it seep through every pore on your body.

Your ancestors may not have been the most moral people on the planet, Ares, but they did pass on a trait to you that has been your saving grace and I pray will be passed on to our son as well."

"And what is that, Lizzy?" I ask slightly frustrated.

"_Charisma_, Ares. You make people trust you because you sound like you genuinely care about them. You have a way of phrasing things that makes the message come alive. _You're a leader._ You could tell a group of people that they need to jump off a cliff and they would do it because you can make them trust you. That's not because of the R & R center, My Dear," Lizzy says staring right at me. "That is one-hundred percent pure Snow DNA that pumps through your veins. Not everything that Coriolanus left to you was a bad thing. I mean, you even told our son that he shouldn't be ashamed of his name…"

"Wait," I say holding up my hand to stop her, "You watched the tape I gave you for Octavian?"

"Of course I did!" Lizzy says throwing her hands up in the air. "Do you think I'm going to just let Octavian see some recording from his father who was killed years before without having any idea what was on it?"

"That was supposed to be for Octavian, Elizabeth…"

"Oh, stop it, Ares. You and I both knew the second that you handed that tape to me that I was going to watch it. Am I lying?" I try to pretend to be angry but I know I can't. I look down and laugh a little bit.

"No…you're not."

"Exactly," Lizzy says looking away for a brief second. I notice a small tear forming in her eye. "By the way, I think that was one of the most beautiful things I've ever watched. I cried for two weeks straight after seeing that thing. Finnick didn't know what to make of it."

"Did he see the tape?" I ask nervously.

"Of course not," Lizzy says with a grin. "I thought you trusted me enough to know that it's only for our immediate family."

"Good," I say relieved. Lizzy pauses for a few more seconds.

"Ares?" she says with a lot of trepidation. I already know what she's going to ask me.

"Yes, Baby," I reply.

"I know you can't tell me a lot of details. I've come to terms with that a long time ago, but as your wife, I need to know..."

"Ok…" I say trailing off and looking down at the floorboards.

"How close have you come to needing for me to show Octavian that tape?" I nod my head several times trying to find the right words. Finally, I place the parts of my rifle that I am still working on aside and grip the edge of the video terminal as if I was trying to hold Lizzy's hand.

"A lot closer than you'd like to know…" Lizzy nods her head this time as if she already figured out the truth and was just afraid to accept it.

"I know, Ares," she says closing her eyes. "I already knew. But at least promise me one thing?" Lizzy asks in a very serious tone.

"And what is that?"

"I understand that you have to put your life on the line. _You're a soldier_, that's what you do, but at least promise that whenever you risk yourself, it's for a good reason. I have to know that if you're taken away from us, it's not going to be for some pointless idiotic mistake that could have been prevented. I need to know that it was because it was the only way…"

"Lizzy..." I say trying to figure out how to react.

"Just promise me!" she says impatiently.

"Alright, I promise."

"Good," she says looking to a clock off screen. "Finnick and Octavian should be getting back soon. I need to make the little guy's breakfast."

"Ok," I say a little sadly.

"Hey," she says bringing her face right up to the screen. "I love you." I lean down to the screen as well.

"I love you, too," I say with a smile. We close our eyes, press our lips against the glass, and pretend for a brief second that it's for real. "Be sure you give the little guy a giant hug and a kiss from his daddy."

"I do every day. You stay safe over there!" she says with a stern word of warning.

"And you stay safe back there!"

"As long as we have the ocean, we'll be fine," she says with a grin. It is a very cryptic response for anyone not from District 4, but for Lizzy, it makes perfect sense. I know her enough to leave it alone.

She waves goodbye and her image fades to black. I sigh as I reach forward and switch my terminal off. I stare around the room for a few introspective moments trying to get my thoughts and Lizzy's words to coexist peacefully in my brain, but soon give up when I realize it is all but hopeless.

I pick up a clean cloth and begin to focus on my rifle again. Somehow, cleaning a weapon is a very meditative experience when done correctly. There is a clear beginning and a clear end and it is obvious how to go from one to the other: the weapon is dirty and needs to be clean and the only way for that to happen is to scrub. I've spent many hours polishing even the tiniest parts of a rifle until they shined like they were brand new solely for the reason that I needed to clear my mind. Today, however, is not one of those times.

I bring the rifle to a decent stage of cleanliness, apply a thin coat of oil to the working parts, and then assemble them back together into a working weapon. I just can't seem to stay focused enough right now to really put in the time and energy to do more.

I set the weapon aside and walk over to the window. I stick my head out into the afternoon sun and take a deep breath of air. Just when I am about to be bring myself back to a state of relative calm, there is a knock at my door.

I go over and open it. It's Hatchet, nervously standing in the hallway. She barges past me right into my room.

"Come in, Sergeant, _please_," I say sarcastically. I close the door and turn around to face her.

"Sir," she says awkwardly crossing her hands across her chest. "We need to talk…"

"_Uh oh_," I think instantly. _"I don't know women that well, but I certainly know enough to realize that nothing good ever follows those words."_


	6. Chapter 6

"So, what's up, Sergeant?" I say trying to sound concerned.

"Well, Sir, I couldn't help but hear your conversation with your wife…"

"You were listening to my private conversation?" I say incredulously.

"What?" Hatchet says like she did nothing wrong. "The walls are really thin in this place."

"That they are…" I mutter as I stare up at the ceiling and think about how much sleep I've lost in the last year trying to block out Hatchet and Ratchet in the next room. I look back to her face and she that something is really bothering her that she needs my help with. _"I swear, sometimes she's less like my sergeant and more like a little sister I feel very protective of."_

"Is being married nice?" she asks with an anxious look. I find myself nervously chuckling at her question.

"Well, that's a very simple question with a very complicated answer, Hatch."

"Just try, Sir," she says walking over to my bed and sitting down.

"Hatch…."

"Sir! Please." I see that she really needs this.

"Ok," I say walking over and taking a seat next to her. "Imagine being with a person that knows you better than yourself. Someone, that you can't hide anything from, and someone that you don't want to hide anything from." I think of Lizzy's calming influence over my moods. How she can see straight through the barriers I put up around my deepest secrets and say exactly what I need to feel whole again. "Imagine, trusting someone more than you trust yourself and when they say something about you that you don't want to here, you actually are secretly grateful because you know they're right and you needed to hear it." I stare off toward the wall at the far end of the room, thinking more of my own issues than Hatchet's.

She looks at me with perplexed yet understanding eyes.

"Is it worth it?" she asks with a bit of hesitation.

"Well, that's a question you have to ask yourself, Olivia." I say with a slight smile. "Are you ready to live for someone else instead of just for yourself?"

"What about more than one someone else?"

"Say what?" I ask confused.

"What about children? You have your son, right? I heard you talking to your wife about him. Is having a kid really as good as people say it is?" I look down to the floorboards totally out of my element. After all, Lizzy is the counselor, not me.

"It can be hard…" I say thinking of the pain I feel every day knowing that Octavian is growing up without his father.

"I didn't ask if it was hard," Hatchet says firmly. "I asked if it was worth it." She looks at me with her fierce blue eyes again. "Tell me what it was like the moment your son was born."

"Why do you want to know this all of a sudden?"

"Just tell me, Sir!" I stare straight back at her.

"It was the strangest moment of my life," I say trying to get my thoughts together.

"How?"

"It was the only time I've ever felt completely terrified, but utterly ecstatic at the same time." Hatchet smiles and looks away. "Alright, Olivia, enough tip-toeing around it. Why did you go from super solider to love-sick puppy in less than twenty-four hours?" I expect to get a tongue-lashing from Hatchet, but there is none. She just does something totally unexpected. She sighs and then rests her head on my shoulder. I freeze, completely unable to process what has just happened. It's very easy to forget that she's not just one of the boys sometimes.

"Sergeant," I finally am able to get out, "What are you doing?" She doesn't move at all.

"You know, Sir," she says with a smile on her lips, "it's kinda funny…"

"What is?" I say nervously, afraid to move like I have a hungry wolverine resting inches from my face.

"I was never really able to connect with my mother, or any other woman, in fact. I'm always so afraid to show anyone who I really am since I'm always trying to put on this big and tough soldier girl routine. I've got to after all since I'm leading guys into combat. They don't want to see a woman, they want to see a big tough guy like them. But with you, for the first time ever, I feel safe to let you see the real me and know you'll still respect me in action."

"Thank you, Olivia," I say trying to maintain my composure. "I'm not even sure how to take that…" She lifts her head off my shoulder and stares right at me.

"_Gratefully_," she says with her old fierceness returning. I'm very uncomfortable right now. After all, I'm not supposed to be Hatchet's friend. I'm supposed to be her commander, able to send her on a mission that could possibly result in her death at a moment's notice. I'm torn by my desire to cut her off and demand that she return to our previous state of detached professionalism…but I also understand that here, on the other side of the world, we need a special relationship between the members of our team. We're alone here in Britannia and need to lean on each other very hard to maintain our humanity. Despite all my instincts, I decide to be the confidant she needs me to be at this moment.

"Alright, Hatch," I say staring her down. "Tell me the truth. What the hell is going on with you right now?" She looks away for a brief moment, but then turns right back at me, flashing her bright eyes right at mine.

"Clint asked me to marry him last night. He told me that seeing that poor girl from the TEC made him realize what was really important, and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He wants me to be the mother of his children."

"And you want to know what marriage is like before you tell him yes?" I say coming to a bit of understanding.

"Not quite…" she says a bit standoffishly.

"What do you mean?" I ask apprehensively.

"I already told him _yes_…"

"Wow…." I say genuinely taken aback. I stare at the wall across from me and realize that the entire dynamic of the team has changed. "And obviously, you're concerned that the war will last a long time and make planning your wedding more difficult?" I ask hopefully.

"Not quite…" she says _very_ standoffishly.

"_What?_"

"We want to get married here in Britannia…_next week_."

"WHAT!" I say bolting to my feet. "You can't be serious?"

"I absolutely am, Sir," she says quite aggressively.

"Why? Why could you possibly want to change things on the team so much when we're finally so close to taking the fight to the TEC?"

"Because, you're right. We don't know how long this war is going to last. And the next time we go into action together, we want to know that if one of us doesn't come back, we already committed ourselves to each other." I pace back and forth across the room a few times trying to wrap my head around this. Finally, I'm able to look her in the face and ask:

"It sounds like you two have already made up your minds. Why are you asking my opinion, Sergeant?" She glares at me with an annoyed look.

"Two reasons, Sir," she grumbles.

"And they are?" I ask a little upset.

"The first is that we want your approval. You _are_ our commander after all. We're professional enough to realize we can't change the team so much without making sure our boss is on the same page." I bury my face in my hands and have no idea what to say.

"Sir," Hatchet says sternly. "Have Ratchet and I ever acted unprofessionally in action as a result of our relationship?"

"No," I say rubbing my eyes.

"And do you have a reason to think that if we get married our behavior will change toward each other? That I will be compromised in my ability to lead Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller in combat against our enemies?"

"No…"

"Then what's the problem?" she asks climbing to her feet.

"It's just…" I hesitate a bit before finally spitting out my answer. "It's just I'm not used to talking about two of my soldiers marrying each other." Hatchet just cocks her head to the side and sticks out her chin.

"Welcome to the new world, Sir," she says firmly. "We'll abide by any decision you make, but it better be made for the right reason. _I think you owe us that_." She's right…_I do_. I straighten myself out and look her dead in the eyes.

"Very well, Sergeant Sawbleyde, you have my permission to marry Sergeant Hightower."

"Thank you, Sir," she says with a huge smile.

"That reminds me," I say grinning, "What will I call you after next week? Or should I say what will I call Ratchet? Will he be Mr. Sawbleyde?" We both laugh.

"No Sir," Hatchet says grinning. "I'll be Sergeant Hightower as well…but you can still call me 'Hatchet."

"Nice," I say. "Oh, you said there was another reason?"

"Yes Sir…" Hatchet says even more nervously than before.

"What is it?" I say with a smile.

"Clint and I were kind of hoping…that _you_ would perform the ceremony, Sir."

"_Me?_" I say totally shocked. "Why would you want _me_ to do it? I've never performed a marriage ceremony before. Don't you two want somebody who will be able to make it special?"

"Sir," she says looking at me with a smirk. "Neither of us are very religious and District 7 and District 3 have _totally_ different ceremonies. What would make it special for us is for the ceremony to be performed by someone who we both care about."

"And that's me?" I ask incredulously.

"Who else would it be?" Hatchet says chuckling. I just turn a bit red.

"I guess I never thought that you guys cared about me as much as I cared about you…"

"Well then, Sir," Hatchet says shaking her head, "you're an _idiot_." Both of us laugh again.

"In that case, Olivia, if it's what you both want…_I'll do it_." Hatchet's face lights up and she dashes over to me. Before I can react, she throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.

"You're amazing, Sir," she whispers right into my ear. I can't help but wonder if this is the same woman that I saw blow through three TEC guards and take out an anti-aircraft battery with a rocket launcher just two days ago. I slowly raise my hands and awkwardly pat her on the back.

"Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate that…" Hatchet pulls way and begins pacing around the room.

"There's so much to do with so little time," she says brushing some hair out of her face. "Plus, I personally promise that not a single mission will be compromised by this. We'll completely plan this on our personal time."

"I appreciate your professionalism…." Hatchet interrupts me before I can finish my thought.

"And I guarantee that you won't have to a worry about a single detail. We'll take care of the ceremony and you'll just have to show up, Sir."

"Well, if you need me to rehearse something, just let me know…"

"This is amazing!" Hatchet says acting like I'm not even in the room. "I've got to tell Clint! I'll see you around, Sir. Thank you again!" Hatchet spins around and dashes out my door. As she slams it behind her, I find myself alone again. After a few seconds of wrapping my head around this newest crazy series of events, I walk over to my bed and collapse in a heap on top of the mattress. As I stare up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, I let my thoughts drift through the chaos and revelations of the last few days: Angus, Maggie, Lizzy, Hatchet and Ratchet… Suddenly, I begin to laugh hysterically at the top of my lungs. Even though it means I'm probably losing my mind, I know that somehow things will work out. How could they not when everyone is planning for the future?


	7. Chapter 7

I walk down the rickety wooden stairs of _The Three Foxes_ and take a seat at the bar next to Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc. Mrs. Marbury slides a pint mug of beer to me with a smile.

"To Bachelorhood," Tiller says raising his mug above his head.

"I haven't been able to drink to that in a while," I say sarcastically.

"That's alright Sir," Tiller says pointing to Ratchet, "he can only drink to it till tomorrow morning anyway." We all laugh and join in his toast.

"To Bachelorhood!" we shout as we slam our metal mugs together with a loud, "_clink_."

Ratchet takes a deep sip of his beer before turning back to us.

"Jealous much?" he asks to Tiller.

"_Not at all_," he responds firmly. "You have good luck with that one upstairs," he says motioning toward Hatchet's room. "So Sir, I happen to have been noticing that you've been spending a lot of time with the bride to be lately…"

"I don't care how you say it. _That just sounds so damn weird_," Doc mutters taking a long sip of his beer.

"Yes, I have been, Tiller. What's your point?"

"Yeah, what is your point?" Ratchet says turning toward Tiller.

"Oh nothing to impugn the honor of _our_ platoon sergeant and _your _future wife," Tiller says defensively, "I was just wondering if the Sir here was Hatchet's _maid of honor_, that's all." The three of them burst out laughing and I just look at Tiller with a crooked grin on my face.

"Tiller…"

"Yes Sir," he says flashing me a smile.

"Come here," I say reaching across the bar and motioning him to lean towards me. When he's in arm's reach, I smack him hard across the back of his skull.

"_Ow_," he says rubbing his head.

"Well, considering you just called the Chief of the whole UDP Defense Forces a '_maid_,' I think you got away pretty easy," Doc says with a chuckle.

"Alright, alright," I say with a smile, "all the bull… aside, Ratchet…"

"Sir!" he says turning to me.

"Ok, this is your bachelor party and considering that we are _your groomsmen_," I say flashing a look toward Tiller who smiles back, "I want to congratulate you by offering this little toast:

I remember when you first met Olivia over a year ago, and I distinctly remember you telling her that having a 'Hatchet and Ratchet' on the same team just sounded stupid. Well, not to sound contradictory so late in the game, but I don't think it sounds stupid at all. I've watched you two grow together and I know for a fact how much she cares about you." Ratchet gets a slightly embarrassed look on his face and stares down into his drink. "Hatchet has done so much for everyone sitting here right now, and I know that each and every one of us feel the same way as I do.

And you, Ratch, I know that you are an honorable man who strongly governs himself by what he knows to be right and wrong. You deserve a woman like Hatchet, and she deserves a man like you."

"Thank you, Sir," Ratchet says with a grateful nod.

"Definitely, man," Tiller says patting Ratchet on the back.

"You're one of the best friends I've ever had," Doc says staring right at Ratchet, "Even if you did make me hold that damn drip pan for all those hovercraft. Seriously, will I ever stop smelling like transmission fluid?"

"Nope," Ratchet says with a laugh, "Consider that a badge of honor."

"Ok," I say raising my mug into the air again, "As we all take a drink to Olivia and Clint's long and happy life together, let's also make a vow among all of us as well. This war will not last forever. Let's promise that we will do everything in our power to make sure that the two of them make it home together." Everyone at the bar falls silent. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if such an amazing love didn't last for years to come." I know it's a much more somber note that they were all expecting tonight, but it's one I think they all need to hear. "I've come to realize that we're all a family now…_and family takes care of its own_." I look at their faces and see that they've all understood my words. Doc silently raises his mug.

"I promise," he says with iron conviction in his voice. A second later, Tiller raises his mug to join Doc's.

"I promise, too. Someone's got to be around when this is all over and still be happy," he says with a slightly uncomfortable chuckle. Ratchet looks at the three of us and his eyes start to get a little glassy. He raises up his mug toward the others.

"I love you guys," he says trying to wipe the tears from his face, hoping we didn't notice. "I'll drink to that, but don't think for one second I'll let any of you do anything to stupid for me."

"I don't think you have a choice in that, brother," I say lifting my mug to complete the circle. "To Hatchet and Ratchet's long and happy life together."

"To Hatchet and Ratchet's long and happy life!" the others echo as we clink mugs again.

"So, you guys decide to have a party and not invite your platoon sergeant? That's messed up," we hear from behind us. We turn around to see Hatchet, defiantly standing with her hands on her hips.

"Babe!" Ratchet says nearly spilling his beer. "I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding! It's bad luck." Hatchet strides over to the bar and takes a seat next to me. "A real soldier makes her own luck…and that's Sergeant Sawbleyde to you when we're in uniform, Grease Monkey," she says with a coy smile. The other three of us can't help but laugh a little. "Oh, and after tomorrow, it'll be Sergeant Hightower to you when we're in uniform…" Hatchet says raising her eyebrows to her future husband. Ratchet is taken aback but can't help but smile. I know it's because he just loves her strength so much.

"Yes…"

"Yes what?" she says getting Mrs. Marbury's attention.

"Yes _Sergeant_…"

"There we go…" she says as Mrs. Marbury walks over to her.

"And what can I get for the blushing bride to be?" Mrs. Marbury says in her most motherly tone.

"Were you able to find it for me?"

"Who do you think you're talking to, Dearie?" Mrs. Marbury says leaning down behind the bar. She comes back up with five shot glasses and a bottle of clear liquor.

Hatchet places a glass in front of each one of us. Mrs. Marbury starts to open the bottle but Olivia puts out a hand to stop her.

"Don't worry about that, Alice, I've got it," she says with a smile. Mrs. Marbury hands her the bottle and Hatchet pulls her axe from her belt. In one quick motion, she slams the back of the weapon into the cork and sends it shooting across the bar.

"This is something very special," she says pouring each of us a shot. "This may sound crazy, but my ancestors once came from Norwegia a very long time ago. We still make this is District 7 and Mrs. Marbury here was kind enough to find me a bottle that a friend of hers got through the TEC lines. If you don't drink it, it's an insult to her, an insult to the Norwegians, and an insult to my heritage."

"Wouldn't want to insult anybody," I say cautiously reaching for my drink. Hatchet picks up her glass and makes one last toast as a bachelorette.

"To the team!" she says as we all click our glasses together. "And I don't want to hear any more of that bull… about you guys trying to protect me. It's my job to protect you…._all of you_," she says with a stern look to me.

We all take the shot and it feels like liquid fire going down my throat.

"Oh my God, _what is this_?" I ask gasping for air.

"Relax," Hatchet says after she polishes her drink off in one gulp. She quickly pours herself another. "It's made from honey."

"Still tastes like freaking hovercraft fuel," Doc says patting his chest with his fist.

"Yeah," Hatchet says nonchalantly taking her second shot. "You have to have balls to really enjoy it." All five of us burst out laughing.

The next morning dawns beautifully clear. When the time comes, I gather up the groom along with Doc and Tiller and walk with them over to a grove of trees a few blocks from _The Three Foxes_. Hatchet demanded to at least have leaves over her head when she said her vows.

We take our place in front of an ancient oak as the guests start to arrive. It's a very small ceremony just as Hatchet and Ratchet requested. It's only the team, Angus, Maggie, Mrs. Marbury, and a few other close friends we've made since our arrival in Britannia. As I stand staring down the makeshift aisle in my dress blacks, I make a few final adjustments to Ratchet's uniform.

"Are you ready?" I ask with a smile.

"No, Sir. I'm actually really scared," he whispers back.

"Don't worry then," I say reassuringly. "That means you'll be just fine." One of Mrs. Marbury's friends begins to play a wooden flute in an ancient country ballad from Britannia. Since neither the bride nor the groom could agree on a ceremony that blended the traditions of Districts 7 and 3, they both came to the decision to just do it their way: simple and full of genuine love.

A flash of white at the end of the aisle catches my eye. I nod to Doc and Tiller who are standing next Ratchet. They take their places before I look the groom right in the face.

"Turn around," I say calmly. He slowly moves to see Hatchet, dressed in simple, white calico walking towards him carrying a bouquet of local wildflowers. He stares at her in silent adoration. I know at this moment that they are, in fact, destined to be together.

As she reaches our group, Hatchet holds out her hand to me which I place gently into Ratchet's waiting (and a bit sweaty) palm. Then, I begin the ceremony.

"Friends and family," I say to everyone present. "We are here today to join these two people together in marriage. When they complete their vows, they will be husband and wife, joined together in one existence from now until they are parted by death." I look to Hatchet and Ratchet, but it is like I am invisible to them. All they can see at this moment is each other.

"Olivia, do you promise to love and honor this man? To be with him through both triumph and tragedy as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she says with a softness I have never heard in her voice before.

"Clint, do you promise to love and honor this woman? To be with her through both triumph and tragedy as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," he says gazing into Hatchet's eyes. Suddenly, I see tears begin to roll down his cheeks. When she sees Ratchet, Hatchet can no longer hold herself together either, and begins to cry as well.

"Marriage is not a destination," I say speaking from my own heart. "It is a journey, and not always a pleasant one. It is fraught with danger and peril, for it is in our natures to not always want what is best for another, but instead look out just for ourselves. However, the real miracle that occurs when two people find each other and fall in love, is that somehow, despite all their instincts and desires, they will find a way past mankind's natural pettiness and greed, and live solely for each other…

Now, by the power vested in me by all those present, I hereby pronounce you both husband and wife. _You may kiss the bride_."


	8. Chapter 8

Unfortunately, I could only afford to give Hatchet and Ratchet two days off for their honeymoon. After a short reception, they immediately disappeared to get to work on their life as husband and wife. For the rest of us, it was right back to the war.

The next morning, -Tiller, Doc, and I meet Angus in Tower Control. He's pouring over intelligence reports about TEC troop movements while President Holmes and Amelia's faces loom over the room on the big screen.

"Honestly," Angus says with a furrowed brow, "Something big is happening. Ten divisions have begun moving from the eastern frontier toward the west. Right now, there massing near Germania, but could be rerouted anywhere along the Britannic Channel in less than a day." He doesn't notice our presence, but Driva sure does.

"Nice of you to finally join us, General," she says with a bit of a smirk. I check the time on my communicuff.

"Actually, ma'am we're ten minutes early," I say holding up my wrist. "If you want to change the time of our meetings, please make sure I get the memo." President Holmes looks down at her own communicuff and raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh," she says very perturbed. "My apologies to you and your team, General Snow. I must be _getting old_."

"Don't be silly, Ma'am," I say shaking my head back forth. "You look young and fresh as a spring rain." Angus just rolls his eyes. For some reason, he's never in the mood for playful banter anymore.

"Well thank you, Ares," President Holmes says smiling back slightly embarrassed. "Please, give my congratulations to Sergeant Hightower and Sergeant Sawbleyde when you see them again. Even though I can't quite comprehend marrying someone you work so closely with, I have to say that I am very happy that you're able to preserve a bit of normalcy over there."

"I think you mean Sergeant Hightower _and_ Sergeant Hightower, Madame President," I say with a grin, "and yes I'll mention your kind words to them. Believe me, it took a little while for us to get used to them as a couple as well, but now we see that they wouldn't be the same without each other." President Holmes smiles back to me, but Angus takes that opportunity to clear his throat loudly.

"Yes, I am as ecstatic for Olivia and Clint as everybody else is, but need I remind everyone that a hundred thousand TEC soldiers are bearing down on Western Europe as we speak? What exactly are the responsible parties in this room going to do to make sure that our allies in the resistance are not annihilated before there is an armed invasion of this island? Questions, comments, suggestions, anyone?" he says sarcastically before looking around to each one of us.

The alarms begin again in Tower Control and Central Briefing. I swear I'm beginning to think that the TECs time their transmissions to coincide with these meetings.

"Another incoming broadcast from the TEC, Sir," Maggie shouts out.

"Is it the resistance again?" Angus asks hopefully.

"No Sir," Maggie says shaking head. "This one is coming directly from Germania itself."

The big screen is Tower Control comes to life. Burning buildings lie in ruins, and the mangled bodies of TEC civilians in their white jumpsuits lie strewn over the charred earth. A narrator begins to speak:

_"This is what our enemies call freedom…"_ The camera draws in close to the bloody, gaunt face of a dead TEC child, her eyes fixed and dilated, staring off into space as everyone in Tower Control and Central Briefing covers their mouth in silent revulsion. We all know that it was Grosfrere who engineered these sights of horror for his people.

"_The so-called "Resistance" against the Sacred Law is nothing but a lie told by the perverted to draw us away from the light and back into the ages of darkness…"_ The images of horror continue unabated. More innocents are shown dead and murdered in various poses of agony. Suddenly, the terrified scream of a woman pierces the speakers. _"Our enemies have joined together in a last attempt to halt the unyielding progress of the Trans-European Commonwealth toward total peace and harmony…" _The image of a man dressed in a highlander's kilt with wild unkempt hair and a face caked with blood stands alongside another equally terrifying man with bright crimson eyes who wears the uniform of a UDP soldier. They suddenly raise their assault weapons toward the camera and empty their magazines directly at the audience while yelling like feral animals. The hideous screaming in the background continues until the screen fades to black. _"But there is one man…" _The image of the TEC flag waving in the sky on a bright sunny day appears and the anthem of the TEC begins to play in the background. _"Who will stand against the evil avalanche and protect us with the holy force of the law?" _The waving flag morphs into the silhouette of Grosfrere who appears staring off toward the horizon. He cuts a heroic figure, dressed in shining blue TEC armor decorated with yards of gold bullion hanging from his shoulders and medal after medal attached to his chest. The message is clear: _the Supreme Lawgiver is ready for war_.

The camera pans back to a live image of a rally at "The Heart" in Germania. A crowd even larger than the one that greeted Grosfrere at the stadium a year ago sings the tones of the TEC anthem in perfect unison, their hands crossed high and proud over their heads in the TEC sign of victory. Their Supreme Lawgiver stands on the same balcony of "The Heart" on which he announced the invasion of Panem all those months ago. He stares out at his people, flanked by the massive portraits of the Supreme Lawgivers that came before him. Grosfrere and the crowd are separated by a huge polished stone street that must be at least five hundred yards across. It is easy to become intoxicated by the massive scale of the spectacle and for a brief moment, even I admire that psychopath for his brilliant use of propaganda.

At this point, I would usually expect a snide comment from our side, but none of us, including me, can seem to come up with one that appropriately breaks the tension. I am overwhelmed by the realization that it is my impossible task to defeat these maniacs. I really wish Hatchet was here. She would definitely be able to put us all at ease with one of her confident aphorisms.

The TEC anthem comes to a close and the camera focuses back on Grosfrere, who is literally shining in the noon-day sun in his suit of blue armor. He begins to speak:

"My fellow citizens of the glorious Trans-European Commonwealth," the camera briefly cuts back to a few people in the crowd. The look of relief of their faces is extreme, as if a deity was talking directly to them with reassuring words of safety and victory. "We now stand at the crossroads of history. Down one road, is the path our enemies have chosen. They wish for us to lay down our arms and submit ourselves to the tyranny of their democracy. Down the other path, is the way of submission to the law and a glorious future where the individual is erased and there is only sublime service to the State.

A few perverted souls among us have lost faith in that vision. They have rejected the glorious and perfect law of our land and committed unspeakable acts of atrocity against our fellow citizens and those magnificent TEC soldiers who protect us. However, _I_, the Man among Men, the Supreme Lawgiver will no longer allow them to threaten you and your children. I will send my armies against them and bring devastation and pain for every act of terror they commit.

It has fallen to me," Grosfrere says gesturing to the massive portraits hung on the side of "The Heart's" sloped marble walls, "As your Supreme Lawgiver in this time of trials to dispense merciless justice upon them!" The crowd erupts in a deafening roar. After a few seconds, Grosfrere holds up his hand and the thousands instantly fall silent. "The greatest weakness of a democracy is that instead of being ruled by the sublime absolutes of the Law, they are instead governed by the blind ramblings of the mob. They stupidly believe that through _tolerance_, we will fail to see the superiority of our perfect method of authority and fall into their trap of sloth and laziness. I assure you all here that I will never cave in to those idiotic demands. Their desire for peace is their fatal weakness! I will fight them and they will die! They will all die by the hand of our unstoppable war machine!" The crowd erupts again into wild cheers. Most of the faces in Tower Control and Central Briefing bury their heads in their hands. I silently stare at the screen. Even though Grosfrere cannot see me, I somehow pray that by some miracle, he will feel my resolve to defeat his tyranny.

"I now send the army forth to defend the nation. Let all who oppose the Law feel our wrath! UNUS EUROPA!" Grosfrere screams holding his hands above his head.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!" the crowd echoes back to him in one voice.

"UNUS EUROPA!" he screams again even louder.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!"

"UNUS EUROPA!" Grosfrere shouts on final time so loudly his eyes begin to bulge from his skull.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!" the crowd screams back. They are now in a total frenzy. The camera pans back over to their faces. Some TECs have literally fainted in jubilation.

Suddenly, a quick rhythmic stepping begins.

"What the hell is that?" Doc says finally breaking the silence in the room.

"It almost sounds like…" Tiller says trailing off.

"_Marching Footsteps_…" I say as the camera pans over to a massive ocean of blue. Tens of thousands of TEC soldiers in their faceless armor are marching in perfect lockstep towards "The Heart" in one perfect mass. They goosestep in rhythmic precision down the polished stone street between the crowd and Grosfrere. Though the crowd continues its uproarious jubilation, the soldiers pay no attention to them at all. Instead, they all pay homage to their Supreme Lawgiver, holding their rifles out in salute which Grosfrere returns with the sign of victory.

It is an endless mass, hell bent on destruction. It takes almost twenty minutes for all of them to march by while the TEC narrator extolls the virtue of each and every identical unit in the TEC army. Just as we think the spectacle is coming to an end, the vehicles arrive. Hundreds of tanks grind forward on armored tracks as their long polished cannons gleam in the sun. Each one has a TEC soldier in armor standing in the turret behind a massive machine gun holding his arms up over his head in allegiance to the Supreme Lawgiver. Armored Personnel Carriers are next, each one towing a long artillery piece mounted to a trailer behind it. It is a terrible show of force that is not lost on any of us.

"TURN IT OFF!" Angus screams. He begins to pace violently back and forth across the room. Maggie is stunned at first until Angus screams at her again. "I said turn it off, Maggie. I don't need Grosfrere to tell me how big is military is." He turns to President Holmes' image still on the screen. "I already know!"

"Please, calm down, Chief McFadden," Driva says softly.

"Calm down? Why exactly should I calm down, Madame President?" Angus asks condescendingly.

"Because," I say staring down at the table with quiet fury, "Grosfrere is terrified."

"WHAT?" everyone present exclaims simultaneously.

"Terrified?" Angus asks turning to me. "Terrified, Laddie? Were you even watching the same broadcast as I was?"

"Yes," I say standing to my feet. "What we just saw was the last cry for help from a desperate man."

"Sir, _with all due respect_," Amelia says at me through the screen, "There must have been over a hundred thousand TEC soldiers marching through Germania _with_ tanks and artillery. That hardly looks like desperation to me."

I look down at the stone floor.

"What were the Hunger Games?" I ask calmly to everyone in the room. My only answer is silence. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, people."

"They were a contest…" Doc says somewhat unsure of himself.

"Think bigger than that," I say walking around the table. "What were the Hunger Games?"

"A big spectacle," Amelia says to me. I look over to Angus who seems to be becoming more and more frustrated.

"You're getting closer," I say raising my finger. I turn to Driva. "C'mon Madame President, you lived through so many of them: The Reapings, the forced viewings, the grisly deaths," I say getting more and more excited. "What were the Hunger Games?" President Holmes pauses and then gives the answer I was looking for.

"Control…"

"Exactly!" I shout out. "The Hunger Games were _control_! President Snow knew he didn't have absolute power over the Districts. He knew that they were always just a few short steps away from open rebellion. So, what did he do every year? He put on a giant show to make the country _think_ he held absolute power. He forced the helpless to fight as he and his closest followers held all the cards. They could control the weather, they could control the arena, they could even control who lived and who died… but all it took was _one brave girl_ who refused to play! She would rather die choking on poison berries than give President Snow what he wanted…_submission_. Grosfrere is trying to intimidate us, but with half his country in revolt, he knows that his end is near!"

"That's a beautiful sentiment," Angus finally shouts at me angrily, "but how can you be sure that your little theory is correct, General Snow? Because for all I know, your little rant is just a sign of _your desperation_ at not being able to produce a force large enough to challenge the TEC?"

I pause knowing that I have to pick my words very carefully. I look down at the Mockingjay pin on my shirt and remember my Lizzy's words to me.

"Because," I say turning to look Angus in the eyes, "the blood of a tyrant flows in my veins. It will always be there despite everything I do to fight it. Do you know why I fight it, Angus?"

"No, Laddie. Why?"

"Because I fell in love with someone. I fell in love with a girl on fire. Just like everyone else in Panem did," I say looking to Driva, the old and dedicated rebel. "And then I fell in love with a woman who amazed me every day by her selfless care of everyone around her…and then I fell in love with a little baby who I want to grow up to be his own man, free from fear and terror. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT GROSFRERE IS RIGHT! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT MEN AND WOMEN EXIST ONLY TO SERVE A MASTER!" The brave War Chief looks back at me with his fierce eyes. "I refuse to believe that anyone was born to be a slave. Even if that means I have to die to defend that belief." I then get a response from Angus I never expect. He begins laughing.

"You really are something special, Ares," he says holding out his hand to me. I reach over and give him a firm shake back in friendship. "You're willing to give your life to fight against something that your ancestors held onto with every fiber of their being. You've made yourself stronger than your past. That's why you're my brother, Laddie." Angus lets go of my hand but gets somber again. "I'll fight and die right next you," he says before turning to President Holmes and Amelia on the big screen, "but if something doesn't change soon, that's all any of us will ever do: _die_."


	9. Chapter 9

I walk through the halls of the Presidential Mansion back in the Capitol, but everything seems different…darker and scarier. The walls of the hallway are lined with massive portraits of Coriolanus in various heroic poses. I hear the familiar sounds of Caesar Flickerman giving the day's wrap up of the arena. I make my way down the hall toward the flickering light of a television set.

I enter a huge room lined with exotic wooden paneling and decorated with mounted animal heads. An antique hand-woven rug lies on the hardwood floor. I scan across the room before freezing in terror as I see President Snow laughing in joy as he sits in his massive leather armchair. He is balancing his most beloved treasure and heir apparent, my sister, on his knee. She is eleven years old and squeals with delight as he describes the images on his giant television screen to her. I look over and see a young Katniss, her face covered in terror, as she dodges fireball after fireball shot at her through the forest.

Suddenly, both Coriolanus and Venus fall silent and turn directly at me. I cannot move as my grandfather's snake-like eyes burn into my soul.

"Oh, there you are, my little Ares," he says condescendingly as if he's speaking to a little child. It's only then that I realize that I _am_ young child, two feet tall and barely able to stand on my wobbly legs. "You know this isn't for you," he says with an evil grin on his face. "This is only for _real _Snows to enjoy." I try to respond to his comment but cannot speak one word. "Well," he says as he and Venus both start laughing uncontrollably. "What do you have to _say_ for yourself?" I realize that my mouth feels strange. I reach inside and instead of my tongue, I feel only jagged scars. I gasp in horror and collapse onto the thick wool of the carpet. Their laughter slices me like a thousand knives as blood starts pouring from my tongue-less mouth. "Don't worry, I know just how to deal with naughty little children like you. Don't you remember your Aunt Medea?" Wherever my blood hits the carpet, a thick blue vapor begins to bubble and rise. Soon, I am enveloped in a burning cloud of Shiver. My tiny legs and arms begin to cramp and writhe. Agonizing pain grips my body and I begin to choke and gag on a mix of blood and saliva. The laughing continues as I start to convulse…

I bolt awake with a stifled scream in my bed at _The Three Foxes_. Sunlight is already streaming in from the window and I catch my breath to the sounds of the Londoners below in the street. I quickly realize that both I and my sheets are soaking wet with sweat. I reluctantly climb to my feet and walk across the cold wooden floor to the washbasin in the corner. I dip my hands in the water and wash the tears and streaks of perspiration away from my face. Obviously, I still haven't quite recovered from the meeting yesterday.

Suddenly, my video terminal starts beeping on the desk.

"_Funny_," I think to myself. "_Lizzy wasn't supposed to call today_." I walk over and accept the call.

"You know, Ares," President Holmes' image says to me as she appears on the screen. "I don't know whether I need to control you more or just keep letting you go on you little rants. That was a very impressive little speech to everyone yesterday." I just look down and mutter:

"Good morning to you too, Madame President. It appears you've caught me at an awkward time."

"So it seems, General," she replies flippantly. "I'm glad to see you're keeping in shape over there." It is only then I realize that I'm still in my underwear. I quickly stand up and grab a shirt and pair of pants off my dresser. "Still having trouble sleeping?" she says with genuine concern but somehow I still find it insulting.

"And just how did you know I was having trouble sleeping?" I ask pulling my legs into my trousers.

"Because as much respect and care I have for you, Ares, I still have a job to do. I wouldn't have let you go on this assignment if I didn't have a clear picture of your mental stability."

"That's a really diplomatic way of saying you've been watching me, isn't it? That shrink who talked to me last year assured me that my sessions would be completely confidential."

"Who said that I used _that_ shrink…" I slam my hand down on the desk as I realize who she's talking about. "Luckily, your wife understands what the phrase 'professional opinion' really means."

"I'll have to have a talk with her…" I say trailing off.

"No, you really don't," President Holmes says to me with blunt seriousness. "She has a job to do just like Sergeant Sawbleyde…oh…I mean Sergeant Hightower. That's still gonna take some getting used to." It all becomes clear to me.

"So, you asked Hatchet to watch over my body and Lizzy to watch over my mind?"

"Yes," President Holmes says. "That's one way of putting it." I open my mouth to say something, but President Holmes cuts me off. "All of us care about you, Ares, just in different ways. Lizzy loves you as her wife, Olivia respects you as her leader, and I…"

"And you?" I say curiously.

"I…" she pauses cautiously as if she isn't sure how much she wants to reveal. "I feel _responsible_ for you. I've watched you grow up from a boy into a man. My government turned you into a weapon, and I couldn't live with myself if I became a president of Panem who destroyed a life because it was advantageous to me." I lean back in my chair and smile.

"Well, thank you, Driva, but I assure you, I don't do this because of my loyalty to you. I consider paying it a personal debt to the nation."

"That's the problem, General. There's something that us old veterans of the Revolution didn't understand. We were so desperate for justice that we didn't realize it wasn't _your_ debt to pay."

"Well, it is now," I say firmly before changing the subject. "Madame President, I don't think you called this morning just for personal revelations. What's up?"

"I just received word. _Three days…_" she says. I nod in understanding.

Three days later I stand with Angus on a cliff overlooking the Welsh coastline. It is a beautiful morning and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below mixes with the breeze rolling through the endless grassy field around us. I look over to Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all reunited again and sitting on an outcropping of rocks laughing and joking with each other.

"You know, Ares, It's very beautiful here, but I hope there's a better reason than a bit of fresh air that you dragged me all the way to bloody Cardiff from London."

"Oh there is," I say before nervously looking down at time on my communicuff. "_They're almost an hour late…_" I think in frustration. "_Not a good start_."

Hatchet walks over and pulls me aside.

"Sir, I thought you said they were coming?" she quietly whispers into my ear.

"_They are_," I reply back. "Just have a little faith."

Suddenly, the communicuff on Angus' wrist comes to life.

"_Sir!_" Maggie screams at Angus from Tower Control in London, "_They're coming right at you! They're requesting to enter our waters. Thousands of them!_" Angus jumps and screams back at Maggie.

"Who do you mean? The TECs?"

"_No Sir, Don't you see them?_"

"See who?" I tap Angus on the shoulder and point out toward the western ocean.

"Remember last year when you said it would take an army to defeat the TECs?"

"Cut the shite, Laddie," Angus says angrily. "What's going on?"

"Look," I say with a huge grin. Angus stares out to the horizon and sees them: dozens of armored warships escorting hundreds of freighters and transports. Angus looks at me in utter shock.

"You mean?"

"_They're here_." The massive fleet stretches from horizon to horizon and steams closer and closer to the British coastline. I see the flagship, bristling with massive cannons, in the lead. I pull out a radio from my pocket. "United Districts of Panem Ship Polaris, This is Mockingjay. I have you in sight. Prepare for rendezvous with the big three on marked beachhead."

"_Mockingjay, this is UDPS Polaris. Acknowledged and awaiting your beacon_."

"Sergeant Hightower!" I shout to the team. They have all climbed to the top of the rock outcropping and are gazing at the gargantuan convoy headed right toward us.

"Which Sergeant Hightower?" Ratchet screams back with a chuckle.

"Which one to do you think, Grease Monkey? Pop the beacon!" Ratchet pulls something out of his backpack and climbs to the tip of the rocks. He points the infrared beacon toward the flagship and hits the switch.

"Polaris, Mockingjay," I say speaking into my radio again. "Beacon is alight. Come down and join us."

"Finally," Hatchet says to us sounding relieved. "I'll have people to talk to that I can actually understand."

"_Roger, we copy the beacon. Big Three en route_."

I pull two pairs of binoculars from a bag at my feet and hand one to Angus. We look out and see a squadron of attack hovercraft lifting into the sky from one of the transport ships. Another transport hovercraft lifts off from the rear deck of the Polaris. Half of the attack hovercraft begin to escort the transport hovercraft while the rest fly straight to the beach. They circle only a few hundred feet over our heads making sure the landing zone is clear. Angus stares up at them, still overcome by amazement.

"I've never seen so many ships and hovercraft in my life…" he stammers. "I didn't even know it was possible."

"Panem answered the call, my friend," I say slapping him on the shoulder. "Now you see why it took so long."

"Aye," is the only response he can muster.

As the transport hovercraft nears the cliffs, one of the escort attack ships breaks away and touches down in the grass a few yards away from us. We lean down and shield our eyes as its powerful engines kick up sand and debris all around us. The transport lands next and both shut down their turbines simultaneously.

The cockpit dome of the attack hovercraft peels open and the pilot climbs down the side of the fuselage to the ground. She pulls off her oxygen mask and helmet and reveals her face. She is an athletic woman in her early forties with jet black hair, deep brown eyes, and olive skin. Her flight suit has golden stars on the epaulets. She walks over the transport as the ramp drops and two more men walk out. One is wearing the black uniform of a UDP rear admiral. The naval service badge on his left jacket pocket, a massive golden Mockingjay perched on a pair of crossed tridents, gleams at us in the sun. His pale skin, red hair, and freckles scream District 4. The other man wears a uniform very similar to my own. I recognize my old friend immediately.

The three of them walk over to me and Angus and salute sharply. I return the gesture with a smile.

"Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle," I say nodding to each one of them individually. "Welcome to Britannia. May I introduce the Chief of the Britannia War Council, Angus McFadden." I gesture to Angus who can do nothing more than stretch out his hand in friendship. I can see this very pleasant surprise has left him speechless and the three of them are a bit confused. "He doesn't talk much," I say with a grin which immediately breaks the tension.  
>"Now, you know that's not true at all, Laddie!" Angus says breaking into joyous laughter. "Welcome to Britannia indeed! Hope you all are ready for a fight."<p>

"Count on it," Brigadier LaSalle says to Angus. "It's good to see you again, Sir," he says turning to me. "I suppose I owe you a 'thank you' for this he says flashing the new ranks on his epaulets to me.

"Well, I may have dropped a few _hints_ to President Holmes over the past few months, but you earned that yourself." He smiles back at me in gratitude.

Air Brigadier Valderoun takes a look around.

"So, this is Britannia?" she says in the soft tones of her District 1 accent. "I've always wanted to see it in person."

"Oh trust me," I say, "_You haven't seen anything yet._"


	10. Chapter 10

Our fleet has moved around the island of Britannia and is safely at anchor just south-west of London. The TEC air force made a foolhardy attempt to try to disrupt their movement, but Air Brigadier Valderoun's attack hovercraft swatted them like pesky flies. It seems our training methods for our pilots were effective after all.

Now, Tower Control has the true appearance of a command center. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, Tiller, Angus, Seamus, Maggie, Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and myself all huddle around the briefing table among a sea of papers, documents, reports, and maps that is so thick, one cannot see the wooden surface anymore. President Holmes, Amelia, and Gale watch down on us from the screen as they join in the conference from Central Briefing. The last addition to the guest list was not my choice, but Driva insisted that he join us for his experience and expertise. It's a good thing that the fleet brought a huge supply of real coffee with it, because I know it will be a _very_ long night.

"Alright," I say loud enough to cut down the chatter and get everyone's attention. "Let's get down to business to defeat the TECs."

"What?" Hatchet says curiously.

"Could you not hear me, Sergeant?" I say somewhat annoyed.

"No Sir, It's just I got a strange sense of déjà vu when you said that…like I've heard it somewhere before."

"Pshh, Confused Lasses," Seamus says indignantly. "That's what happens when you get sent daughters when you ask for sons." Hatchet, Brigadier Valderoun, President Holmes, Amelia, and Maggie all flash him cutting looks which silence him immediately.

"Please Chief," I say trying to get everyone refocused. "I think we're all past that kind of prejudice here." Seamus the giant slumps back in chair like a whipped puppy. "Ok," I say spreading out a map of Europe on the table in front of me. "I've already mapped out the key TEC defensive positions. We have an army now, so how are we gonna use it?"

"We should attack someplace they would never expect it," Angus says pointing toward the north. "What about Norwegia? Support for Grosfrere is already at an all-time low and his forces are spread thin. We could land in the fjords and gain a strong foothold on the continent."

"True," I say, "But how would we exploit that foothold? The only way to push on the TEC from Norwegia without making another aquatic crossing is to cut across Lapland and through the Cossack Tribal lands. That would be sending our forces hundreds of miles out of their way and if they get bogged down, they could be trapped by the winter. Only an idiot fights in winter on the Russian plains."

"What about an airborne operation?" Air Brigadier Valderoun suggests. "Using the combined British and UDP squadrons, we could drop soldiers right on the edge of Germania. The war could be over in a few weeks."

"A possibility," I say with a bit of skepticism, "but what if it isn't over right away? Our supply lines would instantly be cut and we would have already left behind our most casualty producing weapons."

"And what are those?" Air Brigadier Valderoun asks seemingly a little insulted.

"My tanks," Brigadier LaSalle says turning to her. "That is unless we have the capability to air-lift one thousand tanks, plus fuel and ammunition." Maggie just laughs and shakes her head.

"I doubt we have the capability to airlift ten."

"Exactly," I say disappointed.

"Well then, Sir, what do you suggest?" Admiral Flannigan says looking over to me. I pause and look up to Driva, Amelia, and Gale on the screen.

"I have _no_ idea," I say after an awkward sigh.

"What?" Gale asks angrily. "The man, the myth, and the legend who's spearheaded this fight so far now finally has an army at his disposal and he has no idea what to do with it?" Amelia flashes him a dirty look which he ignores.

"Can we please refrain from comments that are not helpful to the discussion, Mr. Hawthorne?" President Holmes says trying to calm things down.

"Well, _I_ have a suggestion," Gale says proudly.

"Then by all means, make it," I say trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Why don't we just do what worked before?" He says bringing up a large digital map on the screen. "Divide and conquer: drop forces in each of the TEC provinces and have them fight to overthrow Grosfrere's control. Then, once all the TEC has been liberated, we move on Germania."

The rest of us pause to think on Gale's plan. I admit, though I'm not entirely sure of it, I can't think of anything better.

"Well, can anybody think of a better course of action?" I say scanning around the table. I'm met only a bunch of nervous looks. "In that case…"

"_I can_…" a voice finally rings out from the group. I look up to the screen to see Amelia sitting tall in her chair. Gale glares at her, but she turns to him and glares right back.

"You have to stop thinking like a rebel, Mr. Hawthorne," Amelia says trying to retain her nerve. She knows she is the lowest ranking officer in this gathering of the allied titans.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, _Major Flagg_," Gale says indignantly in her direction.

"A very wise teacher once taught me, that you have to use _all_ the resources available to you in order to achieve victory," Amelia says flashing me a look. I grin back just enough so she can see. "If you separate our forces, Grosfrere can still keep his army consolidated and move against the provinces one by one. He'll pick us off until there's no one left. Remember, he has home-field advantage in terms of supply and logistics. No, we have to keep our army together and strike as one."

"Alright, Major," I say still flashing her a grin, "You have my attention."

"Thank you, General Snow," Amelia replies bringing up a different digital map on the screen.

"I suggest we make a landing here," she says focusing on a corner of the map, "right on the northern Francian beaches."

"What?" Gale screams at her. "That's the most obvious course of action. Those beaches will be fortresses!"

"Yes, there's no doubt that Grosfrere will have fortified those beaches," Amelia says still keeping her confidence, "but it's the course of action most likely to give us success. The danger will be in the water crossing. It's where we'll be most vulnerable. If we cross at the Brittanic Channel, it's less than fifty miles of open water where the TEC air force can do damage to us. Then, once we make a landing, it will have the shortest route for our supply lines to follow. Finally, look," Amelia says changing the projection on the digital map. "From northern Francia to Germania is almost a straight line. We can fight in one massive column straight to their capital and _end this war_."

"Very good, Major," I say looking around the room at everyone's approving faces. "I think you've just pitched a successful operation." Amelia smiles back at me.

"Sir," she suddenly interjects. "I have another idea for the operation…if you think you and your team are up for it." I look over to Hatchet who is literally giggling.

"I think we might be…"

"Good," Amelia says bringing up another screen on our display. "Before the TECs severed Ohm's tunnel after the failed missile attack, I was able to download schematics of all of Germania…including 'The Heart.' Everything is routed through the central computer mainframe inside that building: military command and control, the propaganda ministry, the central broadcast network, literally _everything_. If we destroy 'The Heart' then the TECs will be blind. I think organized resistance will collapse and the TEC army will be forced to surrender."

"You _think_?" Gale says condescendingly. "Are you sure enough to risk the lives of General Snow and his men?" Amelia shoots him a look like stone.

"With all due respect, _Mr. Hawthorne_," she says like she was speaking to a cockroach, "I wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't."

The next twelve hours are spent furiously hammering out plans. Finally, as the sun begins to set against the stone walls of the Tower, I think we finally have the operation hammered out.

"Phase one," I begin to summarize the plan for everyone, "will begin with the fleet sailing from Britannia to northern Francia." I use a long wooden stick to point to the locations on a map. "Once they move across the Channel, they will split into three columns and land on these beaches here. Air Brigadier Valderoun, it will be your job along with the British Squadrons to clear the landing beaches and then provide top cover during the actual invasion."

"Understood, Sir."

"Then, I, the Mockingjay team, and General LaSalle will land with the main body on the middle beach and push with our infantry and armor toward this TEC village to the south."

"Worry not, LaSalle," Admiral Flannigan says with a District 4 grin that reminds me of Finnick. "My boys will drop your tanks on that beach so nice and easy you'll think they were taking you to a village dance."

"Good, I like your confidence, Admiral," I say trying to move things along. "We'll use the TEC village as a rallying point. Meanwhile, the highlanders led by Chief Seamus, will land on the western beach here. It will be your job to secure these coastal cliffs here. If we leave them in the hands of the TECs, it will let them have an overwhelming field of artillery fire over all the landing beaches. Are you sure your highlanders are up to it?"

"Aye Laddie," Seamus says back to me. "Worry not, we'll lead the way."

"Alright, finally, the British commandos augmented by Admiral Flannigan's UDP Marines will take these beaches and secure the bridgehead crossings to prevent TEC reinforcements from arriving from the east."

"Always Faithful," Admiral Flannigan says quietly.

"So are we all agreed on the landing?" A huge shout of approval explodes from around the room. "Good…" I say with a pause before moving on to the next phase. "Then, after the beachheads are secure, the Mockingjay team and myself will push inland from the TEC village, make contact with the Francian resistance, and then push to Germania to strike 'The Heart."

"Are you sure about that, General?" President Holmes interrupts. "Destroying 'The Heart' is not mission essential. Do you think that it's worth the risk?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I do. It's too large a tactical victory to ignore. If it means cutting the legs out of Grosfrere's government and saving a lot of lives in the process, it's definitely worth the lives of five soldiers." President Holmes looks in disbelief to Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc, but all of them look to me and nod in agreement.

"So, how are you and your team supposed to get back from Germania, General Snow," Gale asks. "Unless you all intend to hang out in the enemy capital until the end of the war?" I admit, I haven't even thought that far ahead.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, Mr. Hawthorne," I say with a smile which only serves to infuriate him further.

"Yeah," Tiller throws in, "I bet there's something that flies, rolls, or floats in Germania that we can make use of."

"And if it doesn't work, I'll fix it," Ratchet says laughing.

"And if he can't fix it, I'll keep fighting," Hatchet smiles.

"And that means that I'll just have to keep all of them alive until the rest of allies decide to show up," Doc grins. I look to their faces with the deepest sense of gratitude I have ever felt. The rest of the room must think we're insane, but I know that to us, it makes perfect sense. Individually, the members of the Mockingjay team are weak and vulnerable, but together, we are invincible.

"Very well," Driva says. "Then that plan has my blessing, General Snow, as if my blessing mattered to you at all," she grins.

"Oh, your blessing means a lot to me, Ma'am," I reply. "Without it, I feel much more guilty when I go anyway." The entire room bursts into laughter except for Gale who petulantly leans back in his chair. "Alright everybody," I say glancing to everyone around Tower Control. "_The die is cast_. To Victory!" They all look back and reply in unison.

"_To Victory!_"


	11. Chapter 11

"Can you at least tell me where you're going?" Lizzy asks despondently.

"You know I can't, Babe," I reply with a gloomy face back through the video terminal, "But I think you already know the answer to that question." She leans forward and gives me a forceful nod.

"Yes," she finally manages to get out, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"True."

"Do you at least have some idea when I'll be able to talk to you again?"

"No," I say even more depressed sounding. There's no point in sugar-coating it for her.

"Well, Ares," Lizzy says sarcastically, "you sure know how to make me feel better."

"What do you want me to say, Liz? That I'm going on a 'business trip?' That you shouldn't worry and I'll be home soon?"

"No, of course not…"

"Then what?" I'm becoming increasingly frustrated but luckily Lizzy's professional instincts take over.

"Ok_, time out_," she says in that annoying motherly tone of hers that even though it drives me insane, I always seem to listen to. "Just what the hell is bothering you?" I pause and look away for a second, but soon give in.

"I talked to Driva a few days ago…"

"Ah," Lizzy says with understanding eyes, "and I bet she told you a few things about her and me that you didn't want to hear…"

"How could you, Elizabeth?" I say sounding genuinely betrayed.

"_How could_ _I_?" Lizzy asks indignantly.

"Yes, the things that I told you were _private_. Do you understand that? You're not supposed to be my therapist, and you're sure as hell not supposed to be a spy for my boss!"

"You see, Ares, that's where you're wrong."

"What?"

"I_ am_ your therapist. I'm your wife, that's what I do. The fact that I have a degree in Clinical Psychology is beside the point. I cannot tell you how many times in the eight years I've been your other half that I've listened to your problems, heard your complaints, and then helped you through your issues, but I'm happy to do it! I love you, you crazy man. I'll keep being your shoulder to cry on from now until the day I die. I'm pretty sure that was in the fine print when I said, 'I do."

"But what about talking to the President about me? What about that whole 'sworn to secrecy' thing?" Lizzy looks away for a brief second, wets her lips, and then shakes her head in frustration.

"_That_ was something I had to think long and hard about…"

"Can you at least tell me why you did it?"

"Because I knew it would be what you wanted…"

"_Excuse me_?" I say in angry disbelief.

"Ares, before you jump to conclusions, you might want to make sure you have all the facts."

"Well, how can I unless you tell them to me?"

"How much did President Holmes tell you about our conversations?"

"She told me that you gave her your 'professional opinion' of me."

"And?"

"And that's it," I say succinctly.

"Did she tell you that she was going to force you to retire?" Lizzy says looking me in the face.

"What?" I say more than a little appalled.

"President Holmes thought that you had been through too much trauma after Ohm's Games on the island. Right after Octavian was born, she called me to ask if you could handle the stress of still being an officer because her instincts said that she should force you to accept a severance package so that you could live the rest of your life in peace with your family.

She asked me what difficulties you were having readjusting and I talked to her about the nightmares and the post-traumatic stress. However, I knew that if I didn't recommend to her that you stay in the service, you would wither away into a shell of yourself and cease to be the man I love. So, I told her that, in my experience, insomnia and traumatic recall were normal side-effects of combat situations and that if she really cared about you, she would not only let you keep your job, she would keep giving you more responsibility.

That's when she brought General Sturm on the line and the _three_ of us agreed that you should be the next Chief of the Defense Forces when Sturm decided to retire. So, yes, I told Driva more than I should have about you, but I don't think you'd be any happier if I hadn't."

"Oh my God," I say suddenly filled with guilt and remorse. "You told them all that knowing that I would be away from you so much?"

"Well, unfortunately I cannot say with absolute certainty that my answer would have been the same if I had known that a war was imminent, but I'd like to think that it would have been," she says with a coy grin.

"Why didn't you ever say anything to me about this before?"

"Because, Ares," she says leaning close to the screen. "I know you're a proud man, and you'd have never taken the promotion had you known your wife got it for you." I start laughing hysterically. "Well, am I right?" I look down humiliated and nod my head in agreement. "That's what I thought."

Finally, I build back enough resolve to look her in the face again.

"I love you so much," I say reaching up and touching the screen of the terminal.

"I know," Lizzy says softly as she reaches up and touches her screen as well. "I love you, too." She pauses for a second, but then I see the firm resolve return to her shoulders. "Now, go! Go and do what you love to do so you can get this damn war over with and you can come back to us to be a husband and a father. I'm getting really sick of this single parent routine," Lizzy says with a steady but loving tone in her voice. I crack a grin as well.

"Well, you have Finnick don't you?" I say somewhat dryly.

"Please," Lizzy replies shaking her head. "He's nothing more than a glorified baby-sitter. There are certain things that a girl _needs_ her husband for," Lizzy says pointing down at herself. The tone in her voice says it all.

"Oh, God, _I know_," mirroring her frustrated voice. "Let's just say I hope you're ready to have another kid when I get back."

"Doesn't the person who has to carry the thing get a say in that?" she says flashing me a look. I just stare right back at her. Her fake bravado collapses into a sweet mess. "Yeah," she finally says, "I really want a little _Katniss_ as well…"

"We'll have her soon enough…" I say trailing off softly. "Say, speaking of kids, where's the little guy?" I ask. "I want to say goodbye to him too."

"He's out on the porch. Hold on a sec." Lizzy gets up from her chair and walks outside of the cottage. She returns a few moments later hauling Octavian in her arms. I'm always amazed every time I see him how big he's getting. I think he must have almost tripled in size since I kissed him goodbye on that train platform almost a year and a half ago. Lizzy collapses back down in her chair with Octavian in her lap. "Whew," she says letting out a tired gasp, "You, my little man, are getting heavy." I am speechless as I stare at him. He's carrying a brown, fuzzy teddy-bear clutched in his arms. He stares back at the screen with the huge, beautiful sea-green eyes of his mother, but I am taken aback by one simple fact: _my son looks like me_. "Do you wanna say 'hi' to daddy?" Lizzy asks Octavian.

"Hi, buddy," I say waving at the screen.

"Hello," Octavian replies a little shyly. He knows me now that he's a little older, but still sometimes acts like I'm still a stranger. I've accepted this painful fact, but anything he says to me is still like music to my ears.

"Who have you got there?" I ask pointing at the teddy bear. The question loosens up Octavian a little.

"Toby," he says back in my direction still looking at me with his gorgeous eyes.

"Toby?" I say with a smile. "Where did he come from?"

"Uncle Finnick gave him to me."

"He did?" I say with over-exaggerated surprise.

"Finnick gave him Toby after Octavian caught his first fish," Lizzy says with a proud smile.

"You caught your first fish?" I say excitedly. Octavian nods with a delighted sense of accomplishment.

"Do you wanna show daddy how big your first fish was?" Lizzy says down to him. Octavian immediately stretches his arms out as wide as they will go.

"He was really that big?" I say still unable to stop beaming from happiness.

"Uh huh," Octavian says.

"He's quite the little angler," Lizzy says bouncing him a bit on her knee.

"Of course he is," I say. "He's half Odair." Lizzy grins. Unfortunately, I know that I have to say goodbye to him again and it's killing me. "Hey buddy," I say gazing right at Octavian again. "I want you to know that Daddy really loves you, and he's thinking about you every day, but he's gonna not be able to talk to you for a while."

"Why not?" Octavian says more curiously than sadly.

"Well, has Mommy talked to you about the bad guys?" I ask hopefully. Octavian nods his head. "The bad guys are starting some trouble again, and Daddy has to go to another place to stop them."

"Will you be back soon?" he asks to me. I'd like to tell him yes, but I just can't lie to those eyes.

"I _hope_ so, buddy. But there's a lot of bad guys. It could take me some time."

"Are you gonna be safe?"

"_Damn_," I think to myself. "_Why does he have to be so smart?" _I turn back to Octavian. "I'm gonna be as safe as I can, but what I do is a little dangerous. That's why I have to be so far away from you and Mommy so that you don't get put at risk." Octavian just gets a skeptical look on his face. He knows that Lizzy and I are keeping something big from him, but he doesn't yet know enough about the world to figure it out. As I see the wheels turn in his head, I can tell he's very frustrated.

"You've been fighting the bad guys a long time," Octavian says giving me a stern look.

"Yes, buddy, I have."

"So, you know what they're like?"

"I think so," I say not sure where he's going with this.

"Then, it's like when I caught my fish. If you know what they're like, then just do what you know will work." Lizzy and I are literally knocked dumbstruck. Our son isn't even three years old yet and he's lecturing a General on military strategy….more importantly, _he's right_.

"That's really good advice, buddy. I'll remember that," I pause as I feel my eyes start to burn. "You be sure to keep being a good boy for your mom and Uncle Finnick, ok?"

"Ok," he says back to me with a hint of a smile on his little face.

"I love you so much, Octavian, and I'll be home with you and Mommy as fast as I can."

"I love you too, Daddy, you don't get hurt fighting the bad guys." _That's it_, I lose all self-control and start blubbering. I think it's the first time Octavian has ever said "I love you, Daddy," right to my face. "Daddy?" Octavian asks concerned. "Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

"No, buddy," I choke through my tears. I do my best to wipe my eyes but the streams keep pouring out. As if on cue, Lizzy holds Octavian up to her screen. I lean forward and kiss my side of the glass as hard as I can. When I finally pull back, I look my son right in his perfect face. "_Believe me, I've never been happier_."


	12. Chapter 12

"_This is it_," I think to myself as I push myself forward in my hovercraft seat. I look down the troop compartment to see Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc, uncharacteristically uncomfortable in full battle gear as we prepare to rendezvous with the fleet before it departs to Francia. Hatchet fidgets in her vest and mutters something to herself about how body armor was never designed for a woman with her "sweet chest" (Hatchet's words, not mine) while the rest of the team plays with their helmet straps.

"The gear is only temporary," I assured them after I gave the order to put it on for the landings. "We'll be landing on the beach in the first wave and cannot appear any different than a common soldier. Once we leave for Germania, it gets left behind and we'll pick up more ammo instead." It was a simple answer that allayed their concerns about hauling fifty pounds of dead-weight across the TEC countryside. I was more concerned about needing the extra ammo.

Angus sits beside me in the hovercraft. He has luckily avoided the curse of full battle rattle as he will be leaving us as soon as the fleet departs. He is here solely for moral support. _I_ will be in command of the task force as soon as it leaves Brittanic soil. Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and Seamus left London yesterday to make final preparations with their units before we leave. The Mockingjay team will not be on the ground long, as soon as we land at the ships, _we'll sail_.

"Nervous Laddie?" Angus shouts over the noise of the hovercraft's turbines.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" I respond rather flippantly.

"No, why?"

"Because any sane person should be scared out of their mind right now…._myself included_."

"You scared?" Angus asks with a hint of surprise.

"Oh, don't mind him, Chief," Hatchet says joining in our exchange. "He always talks about how much he's terrified before we go into action, but always acts like a stupid fool once we get on the ground."

"Thank you, Sergeant Hightower," I say as Angus laughs. Certainly, we've been on TEC soil before. I can't even remember the number of raids we've conducted since this war began, but this one will be different. _This isn't a raid_. It is an invasion that will decide the course of everything we've fought for.

"_Sir_," the pilot shouts over the intercom. "_We're approaching the harbor. They've set up a landing zone for us_."

"Alright," I say reaching up and grabbing the microphone. "Take us down for a landing."

"_Roger, Sir_," he replies.

"This is it, boys and girls," I yell to everyone in the crew compartment. "Next, stop is the gorgeous, land-mined beaches of the Trans-European Commonwealth."

"Everybody's favorite vacation spot," Tiller mutters under his breath.

The pilot begins a final, tight circle as he prepares us for landing. The rays of the afternoon sun are just starting to grow orange outside of the windows. We will cross the Channel in darkness, and then hit the beaches in the morning. I look down out of a port-hole to see thousands upon thousands of our soldiers, all armed to the teeth and ready for action. They stand in massive formations in front of their transport ships, awaiting the final order to climb aboard.

"_We're ready_," I think to myself as I marvel at the sheer magnitude of what we are about to do. "_We're gonna do this. We're actually gonna do this_."

The ship breaks into a sharp hover and then drops directly to the ground. We all climb to our feet as the ramp drops and then step outside onto the rocky soil of this place that Angus calls Southhampton. I look around to the coast and see the massive gray steel silhouettes of our fleet, blotting out the sky. The UDPS Polaris, Admiral Flannigan's flagship, lies at anchor just behind our landing zone.

"Alright," I say shouting the rest of the Mockingjay team, "That's our ride."

"That is a big son of a b…." Ratchet says marveling at the four gigantic steel turrets at the front and rear of the Polaris, each bristling with three massive sixteen inch diameter naval cannons. Each one of those things has a steel barrel larger than a tree-trunk and can throw a high-explosive shell weighing as much as a car almost thirty miles. You _do not_ want to be at the business end of one of those things when it goes off.

I grab my gear and begin to walk toward the gangway of the ship when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, Laddie?" Angus says.

"Um, to my ship," I reply rather confused.

"Not yet you're not," he says gesturing to a large wooden platform that has been hastily erected in front of the Polaris. "We've got to address the troops first."

"Oh no," I say dropping my gear and violently shaking my arms back and forth. "I am _not_ a public speaker."

"Those little oratories you keep performing in the Council Chamber and Tower Control beg to differ. Come now, these boys and girls deserve to hear some words of encouragement from their leaders before they go into action."

Angus drags me over to the platform and gives the signal to a few waiting officers. In a few minutes, the entire invasion force is standing in front of us. Out of nowhere, someone produces a microphone and hands it to Angus.

He immediately begins speaking with the rehearsed eloquence of a (not to sound insulting to him) _career politician_. He goes on and on about the meaning of sacrifice, honor, and what victory will mean to the allied countries. To be honest, I don't really hear what he's saying. My mind is lost among the tens of thousands of faces staring back at us. All I see time and time again is a mixture of utter excitement and sheer terror. _Tens of thousands_, all feeling exactly what I am at the same moment.

Finally, Angus falls silent and hands the microphone to me. He covers the end with his hand and whispers in my ear:

"It's all you now, Laddie. Got 'em nice and warmed up for you." I absent-mindedly take the microphone from him and stand before the sea of people. I think of how imposing I must look, standing here, in full battle armor, with a battleship at my back. I wonder if this is how Grosfrere felt when he was addressing the TECs at the parade last week. Then, my mind drifts to another thought that I find even more repugnant:

_"I wonder if this is how Coriolanus felt when he was addressing the people of Panem. Thousands upon thousands who live and die at my command."_

No, I push those narcissistic visions of grandeur out of my mind. This day is not about me. It is about the scared soldiers, sailors, and airmen standing in front of me. If there is any glory after this day, it will belong to them and _to them alone_.

Slowly, I raise the microphone to my lips and begin to speak:

"I am General Ares Snow," the words boom around the harbor carried by the power of a hundred speakers. "Very rarely in our lives, we can tell ourselves that we are about to become a part of history. Today is one of those treasured days," I say starting to pace back and forth across the wooden platform. Something from deep down inside me clicks. I go from being horribly uncomfortable to firmly resolute. The words I speak no longer come from my head, but from my heart instead. "History tells us that there was once a time, centuries ago, when the world lived in freedom. It was a world where no one lived in fear of being executed for their political beliefs. It was a world where people didn't starve and die on the streets from hunger. It was a world where disease could be cured by the right medicine or the right doctor instead of only by prayer and superstition.

But one day, long ago, and for reasons long since forgotten, and ancestors turned their back on what blessings were bestowed upon them. They chose to live for greed. They chose to grow fat and lazy by feasting on the blood of each other, and then touched off a firestorm that consumed them all. The world of progress and plenty was lost in an instant of foolish and violent arrogance…

The few who emerged from the ashes were faced with a choice: live a harsh and independent life without hope of relief or comfort, or submit themselves to the iron-fisted rule of evil men. _Ten generations_….TEN GENERATIONS of Panem lived in slavery before we finally united together to bring an end to the oppression." I look down at the Mockingjay pin, now firmly attached to the outside of my armor and draw strength and resolve from my memories of Katniss. Then I look to Angus, grinning with approval as I begin to reach a crescendo. "And to you, our Brittanic allies, ten generations of your forefathers have suffered through privation and misery to keep yourselves free from the whims of those who believe that men and women simply exist to serve their own ceaseless desire for conquest and avarice.

Right on the other side of this narrow strip of water," I say pointing south across the channel, "innocent people are starting to realize what all of us here already know: It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees. They are willing to suffer and die for the slim chance that maybe their children will live in a world different than their own: a world of hope and dreams rather than one filled with fear and suspicious doubt. They cry out for someone to come and help them in their noblest of struggles, but until now, their cries have fallen on deaf ears.

But today, on this glorious day of days, we have a chance to do something incredible. We have the chance to go forward, and tell those who would see us as slaves…that free men and women will no longer accept a meager existence of pitiful safety in exchange for the very liberties that make them human in the first place! No! We will go forward and show the tyrants who still exist in our world that they may separate us from those we love, they may wound us, they may even kill us, but they will never take away the thing that we have learned to treasure the most: Our freedom!"

A huge cheer erupts from the entire crowd. I feel that I might have reached them.

"Warriors of this noble force of liberation, let's climb onboard our ships and our hovercraft, and do what we've prepared to do for so many hard and difficult months. _LET'S FIGHT!"_ Another tremendous shout erupts from everyone present. An officer appears and I hand the microphone back to him.

Officers and sergeants begin to wrangle the huge formations in front of us toward their transports. Angus walks over for one last handshake before we separate.

"You see, Laddie, I knew you had it in you," he says with a sly grin. I just quietly laugh and give him a firm embrace.

"Take care of yourself, old friend."

"Don't worry, boyo, you'll see me again soon." I look as he disappears for one last time into the crowd. Finally, I gather the courage to walk down from the platform, grab my gear, and make my way over to the Mockingjay team. They've already assembled at the base of the gangplank to the Polaris.

"Some real good words, Sir," Doc says smiling at me.

"Sir," Ratchet says getting my attention. "I know that it may sound kinda stupid coming from me, but I really mean this when I say it: It's an honor to serve with a man like you."

"Hell yeah, Sir," Tiller echoes. I look around and see them all looking at me with genuine respect and gratitude.

"Thank you all," I say doing my best to hold back my emotions. "When this is all over, you'll always have a place in my family."

Then, something catches my eye. I look over to Hatchet and see her uncomfortably staring down at the ground.

"Hatch…" I say with a grin. "Are you crying?"

"What? Me crying?" she says trying to keep her voice steady. Then, she strategically wipes her face on her sleeve as she picks up her gear and moves toward the gangplank. "Of course I'm not crying Sir!" she says starting to climb aboard the Polaris. _"Let's go kill some people!"_


	13. Chapter 13

We climb aboard the Polaris, make our way to the bridge, and find Rear Admiral Flannigan already in action. He commands a group of young sailors with the assistance of a grizzled old Master Chief Petty Officer whose face has been weathered by decades of salt air and ocean sun. Covered in nautical tattoos from head to toe, he is obviously from District 4 as well. In fact, as I look around to the entire crew of the Polaris, I think they all might be from District 4. They are an army of sea dogs with the ocean in their blood and ready to command the waves for Panem.

"ATTENTION ON DECK," a young ensign shouts as I step onto the bridge.

"Carry on," I shout back as I step inside the armored compartment that is littered with computer controls and displays. Immediately, the sailors go back to their tasks at hand. There is only one thing in this modern war machine that hearkens back to the days of ancient sail that are so treasured by sailors from my wife's District: the ship's wheel is made only of polished wood and brass and is a beautiful reminder of days long past.

I walk up to Admiral Flannigan with the rest of my team in trail. He stands in front of a bank of armored glass windows that look out to the massive gun turrets and then to the bow of the mighty vessel.

"Permission to come aboard, Admiral," I say out of respect for naval tradition…or naval tradition to the best of my recollection.

"It's a little late for that, Sir," he says with a quiet chuckle. "You're already aboard." Hatchet and the rest of the Mockingjays laugh quietly behind me. Despite my embarrassment, I don't let this slight breach of protocol dissuade me. "Are we ready?" Flannigan just looks at me with a smile.

"With your word, Sir."

"The word is given," I say grinning right back.

"Master Chief of the Boat!" Admiral Flannigan shouts with a deep authority in his voice.

"Aye Sir!" the Master Chief shouts back with the deep accent of District 4 that I recognize from my in-laws.

"Raise the colors and signal the rest of the fleet to respond in sequence once they are loaded and ready to sail."

"Aye Aye, Sir," the Master Chief says before he begins to scream commands at everyone else on the bridge. The ensign who signaled my arrival walks over to a case in the corner and removes a giant flag. With the help of several other sailors, he takes it outside the bridge, hooks it to a series of ropes, and begins to hoist it high into the air. The wind begins to catch it and the banner begins to flutter in the breeze. I gasp to catch my breath as I see the Admiral's colors for the first time close up. They are identical to the national flag of the UDP with one key exception: this Mockingjay is not a bird of peace at all. It flies on brilliant gold wings in front of the circle of thirteen stars, a fierce snarl in its eyes and on its beak, and it is perched on the same crossed tridents that decorate every sailor's uniform. The message is clear: this is a warship of the United Districts of Panem, and all who oppose it will feel its wrath.

One by one, each of the other ships of the fleet signal that their soldiers and equipment are loaded and they are ready to depart.

"Sir," Admiral Flannigan says to me once the final radio transmission is received. I feel very strange that he is asking for permission from a ground pounder like me to act on his own ship, but his professionalism is absolute. "The fleet is ready to sail to Francia at your command." I look back to him and give him only a resilient nod of my head. "Master Chief of the Boat, weigh port and starboard anchors. Signal the fleet to do the same."

"Aye Aye Sir! Alright you worthless scallywags," the Master Chief says with a snarl that would make even an angry grizzly bear jump. "You heard the Admiral, we sail for the TEC! This is the flagship of Panem, start acting like it you slimy pieces of…." As the Master Chief continues his rant, Admiral Flannigan motions for me to join him on the observation deck outside of the bridge. It is then I witness a feet of teamwork that has gone unchanged for countless centuries.

On the bow of the ship in front of us, a hundred sailors appear from nowhere. A burly petty officer appears and stands between the two giant capstans that hold the massive forward anchor chains of the ship. Fifty sailors take their places along the chains and do something that I have never seen before: _they start to sing_.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_ the petty officer begins.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_ the hundred sailors sing in answer. The capstans begin to turn, hauling in the chains and hundred ton metal anchors that secure the Polaris to the British seabed.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

_ "Old Cory Snow was President before the Revolution!"_ the petty officer continues.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_ the sailors reply as they begin to guide the anchor chains back onto their reels.

_"But then he died a laughing and it spoiled his constitution!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"They've been doing it this way since the time of their grandfather's grandfather. It doesn't matter if it's a steel warship the size of a Capitol Skyscraper or a three-masted fishing schooner. To us District 4 folk, a ship's a ship." Admiral Flannigan whispers to me. I say nothing as I marvel at the beautiful display of teamwork.

_"When I was a little boy, me mother she told me!"_

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "That if I went I kissed the girls, my lips would turn all moldy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"This is it, Patrick," I whisper to Admiral Flannigan as the anchors emerge from the water.

_"Once I had a girl from 12 as sweet as sugar candy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "I lost her to a Capitol man dressed just like a dandy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"What do you mean by that, Sir?" Flannigan says.

_"And then I had a District 1 and she was fat and lazy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "But then I got a 4__th__ District girl and she damn near drove me crazy!"_

I find myself laughing with joy at this last line.

"With men and women like this…men and women who live for the freedom to proudly be who they are…" I say gazing down at the sailors beneath us and then out around to the ships of the fleet. "We can't be defeated…_by anyone_." Flannigan just grins and we look back down to the bow.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

The massive anchors finally come to a rest on the deck, the turbines of the Polaris' mighty engines roar to life. As the sea around us churns with the mighty force of our propellers, we slowly pull out to the channel.

The sun sets into darkness and since there is absolutely no chance of any of us getting sleep that night, Admiral Flannigan offers me and the rest of the Mockingjay team a tour of the ship. However, as soon as we start heading down the ladder to the inside of the vessel, I look over to Hatchet and notice that she appears a bit wobbly.

"Hatch, seriously, are you alright? You're looking a little green." I say with concern.

"I'm fine, Sir," she says gripping the metal handrail tightly.

"You don't look fine, Sergeant."

"Ah, it's alright, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says slapping her on the back. "The landlubber just needs to get her sea legs under her." However, that pat on the back must have done something because before Hatchet can say anything in response, she covers her mouth with her hand and bolts outside to the railing. As we hear the sounds of her wretching over the side, Ratchet just rolls his eyes and turns to the rest of the group.

"It's alright, Gentlemen. I've got her. You all go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" Doc says. "I've got plenty of stuff in my medical kit that can help her out."

"No, no," Ratchet says waving his hand. "You know, Hatchet. She wouldn't take anything. She's too 'hardcore" he says while making air quotes with his fingers. He walks outside to find his wife.

"The funny thing is," he mutters back to us before he heads out the hatch, "I'm usually the one who gets motion sick, _not her_."

Admiral Flannigan leads the rest of us through the halls and passageways of the Polaris' massive structure. We see her engine room with its deafening turbines spinning with the force of several-hundred thousand horse-power, the crew quarters with berths for the thousand-man crew, the inside of the gun turrets large enough to fit five tanks in each one, and then our final stop: the magazine. We all marvel at the row upon row of shells, each larger than the size of a man (except maybe for Seamus).

"The big guns really fire these things?" Doc asks in disbelief as he gazes at steel shell in the racks.

"Yup," Admiral Flannigan replies with more than a little sense of pride in the combat power of his vessel. "We call them 'swimming pool makers' for obvious reasons," he says with a devious grin. Something then catches my eye at the bottom of the five story tall magazine: a neat row of twelve shells all covered with messages written in white paint.

"What are those for?" I ask curiously.

"I was hoping you'd ask that, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says. "Come with me." He leads us down a series of dark cramped ladders to the base of the magazine. I can tell that we must be a _long_ way below the waterline down here. I examine the tremendous shells more closely and realize that the writing is _names_, each one with a special message to the TEC:

_"Avenge District 2."_

_"Anchors Aweigh, TEC boys."_

_"Full Speed Ahead."_

"These are the first broadside that will be fired onto TEC soil," the Admiral says grabbing the nose of the shell closest to him. "The entire crew signed them as a special little treat for the enemy." He gestures to a crewman nearby who produces a pot of white paint and a brush. "And I thought it would be even more special if the Mockingjay himself signed one as well." He passes me the brush and I pause for a second.

"Yes," I say trying to come up with the appropriate message, "but only if we all get to sign them."

"Of course," Admiral Flannigan says with a gracious gesture of his hand. Doc writes a quick dedication to all lives lost in the war while Tiller mentions his friends who were among those captured from District 6. Hatchet and Ratchet finally find us and make their creative additions to the ordinance as well. Finally, I decide on what I want to write, and just as I've finished with the brush, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker system that sends all the sailors in the compartment into furious action:

_"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands, Man your battlestations!"_

"What does that mean?" I ask Admiral Flannigan.

"General Quarters," he says with a mix of excitement and concern. "It lets the men know to get ready for action." He looks down to the time on his communicuff and grins from ear to ear. "Right on schedule. We're in sight of Francia."

The Mockingjay team and I make a dash for the ladders with Admiral Flannigan. Our place will be on the bridge. As I climb toward the top of the compartment, I take one last look down the shells and see my message that will soon be launched faster than the speed of sound right at the heart of our enemy.

_"To Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere: I'm looking forward to meeting you in person. Sincerely, the God of War."_


	14. Chapter 14

The sun's rays are just beginning to light the overcast sky as we reach the bridge. Admiral Flannigan walks out to the observation deck to join the Master Chief and the rest of us follow.

"Weather's moving in, Sir," the Master Chief says handing the Admiral and myself each a pair of binoculars. I look around and see that the fleet has already broken into its three assault groups. Our target beach is straight ahead.

"Yes indeed," Admiral Flannigan says looking at the distant coastline of Francia. _"It's going to make the ride for the grunts in those little landing craft a little more entertaining."_

"Great," I hear Hatchet say behind me. "_Just what I need: a rougher ride_."

"Really, Sergeant Hightower? With everything you've been through you're worried about rough seas?" Tiller says back to her.

"There's a reason I'm not in the navy…" she replies acerbically. I place my binoculars to my eyes. At this range, I can barely make out the dense clusters of obstacles and bunkers that Grosfrere's troops have placed to block our landings.

"Are those going to be a problem for you?" I ask without taking my eyes off of the beach.

"_Ha_," Admiral Flannigan says with an indignant laugh. "Didn't you see the size of those shells down there?"

"Yes," I reply seriously, "but if I'm going in with the infantry, I want to be absolutely sure."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you that it's going to be a walk in the park when you hit the beach, but we'll definitely be able to soften them up for you…Master Chief of the Boat,"

"Aye Sir?'

"Come about to port, set course 090 degrees."

"090 degrees, Aye Aye, Sir!" The Master Chief yells back. Suddenly, the ship turns hard to the left and exposes its broadside to the coast line. As if on cue, the massive turrets of the Polaris all swing in unison over the side of the ship to face the landing site. I look out and see the rest of the warships of the fleet have turned with us while the transports have assembled to our rear in preparation to launch their landing craft. The TECs on the beach now find themselves staring at the muzzles of a hundred heavy cannons.

"Signal the fleet. Bombardment commences at my command," Admiral Flannigan says with steely resolve.

"Aye Aye Sir!" another sailor echoes back. I look through my binoculars again and see a quick series of flashes from the beach.

"Incoming!" I shout as I prepare to dive for the deck. The rest of the Mockingjay team moves with me, but the crew of the Polaris doesn't budge.

"Relax, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says without a flinch. "Coastal artillery…we're well out of their effective range." A mile in front of us, a dozen TEC shells splash harmlessly into the surf. One stray round finds its mark on the side of the Polaris but bounces off like a pebble on a concrete sidewalk. "They weren't expecting us to bring the real heavy stuff…"

"_You could have told us that, Sir_" Hatchet says annoyed as she climbs back to her feet.

"Sorry, Sergeant. It slipped my mind."

"Sir!" the Master Chief says listening into an earpiece. "All turrets report loaded and ready."

"Roger, Master Chief," Admiral Flannigan says spotting the targets with his binoculars. "_Standby._" I see another grin creep across his face. A sailor appears from the bridge and begins to pass out ear muffs. Admiral Flannigan and the Master Chief readily accept them but I pause when the sailor comes to me.

"Really?" I say somewhat bemusedly. "I've been listening to tanks fire my entire adult life."

"Trust me, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says tightly fitting the muffs over his ears. "When those guns go off, you'll want them. During sea-trials, the muzzle blast caused three sailors caught on deck to go stone deaf. Took two surgeries for them to even get back half their hearing." When the team and I see the grizzled old Master Chief putting his on, we exchange worried glances and do the same.

"You talked about being a part of history, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says to me.

"I did."

"Well, a battleship hasn't fired its heavy guns in anger in over five-hundred years…and I can't believe it's under my command."

"Enjoy it, Admiral."

"I intend to, Sir. Master Chief of the Boat…"

"Aye Sir?"

_"Commence Firing."_

An alarm echoes through the ship and I look through my binoculars at the beach fifteen miles away. Suddenly, a huge jet of flame engulfs the entire side of the Polaris. The world turns to slow motion as the entire mass of the ship lurches back fifty feet. I am slammed off my feet and collapse to the deck below as the air is literally sucked from my lungs. It takes a few seconds for me to regain my bearings and I realize that my ears are ringing loudly inside my muffs.

"Have we been hit!" I manage to shout out as I grab the railing and hoist myself to my feet. I look back to Admiral Flannigan and the Master Chief as a thick cloud of black smoke clears around us. They are standing unmoved, still staring straight at the beach through their binoculars.

"Negative, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says grinning from ear to ear. "THAT was a broadside."

"Prepare for Impact," the Master Chief says looking over the side. I quickly put my binoculars back to my face and see my shell along with the eleven others slam into the beach and send the twisted steel and concrete remains of TEC bunkers and obstacles hundreds of feet into the air. More explosions echo through my still ringing ears and I realize that the rest of the fleet has joined in the barrage.

"Sir," the Master Chief says listening in his earpiece again. "Turrets standing by."

"Already?" Ratchet screams to the rest of us.

"Our gun crews are well drilled, Sergeant. _Fire at will_, Master Chief."

"Aye Aye, Sir!"

The alarms echo through the ship once more and I place my hands tightly over my earmuffs to block out the imminent blast. The shockwave and fire rocks the ship again but I manage to brace myself against the railing this time.

"Holy s…!" Tiller exclaims as he recovers from the second broadside.

"A little bigger than your tank, huh, Sir?" Admiral Flannigan says with a chuckle.

"A little," I manage to yell out as my jumbled internal organs still reel from the blow. I look up to Admiral Flannigan's Mockingjay Flag, still flying proudly among the clouds of smoke from the big guns. A smile creeps across my face as the thought rushes through my brain:

"_This bird has sharp talons." _

And so, the bombardment continues for an hour. The TEC positions are given a tremendous wallop, but I'm not naïve enough to believe that they won't regroup before we hit the beaches.

"Sir," Admiral Flannigan says as the fleet fires its final rounds. "_It's time_."

"Alright," I say turning to the Mockingjay team. "The Navy's had enough fun. It's time to get in this war and show them what the Army can do."

"Yes Sir!" Hatchet exclaims as she fastens her helmet strap across her chin. "Alright, you heard the General! It's time for our little day at the beach!"

We grab our weapons and head for the aft deck of the Polaris. The marine detachment from the ship has already prepped our landing craft and lowers it on a set of winches to the surf below. The weather front we spotted earlier has moved in and causes the small, open aired boat to bob violently on the waves.

"Well, this is gonna be fun," Doc says when he sees how violently the craft is rolling below us. The marines throw a rope cargo net over the side for us to use as a ladder. They begin to climb over the stern and down to the waiting vessel below.

"_Don't be such a woman_," Hatchet says to him as she fastens her rifle to her back and climbs over the railing to the net.

"But…but…she said earlier," Doc stammers back as Ratchet pats him on the shoulder.

"It's best not to think too hard about it, Doc. That's what I have to do now that she's my wife," Ratchet says following right after his better half.

"You heard the Sergeant," Tiller says making his way over the side.

"And Roger that," Doc mutters as he begins his descent as well.

I chuckle a bit as I sling my assault rifle and tighten my helmet on my head. Just before I grip the tight hemp of the rope net, I hear a voice shout out from behind me:

"Sir!" It's Admiral Flannigan. I turn around to face him. He presents me with a sharp salute which I return before he reaches out his hand.

"It was a pleasure, Admiral," I say looking him in the eyes and shaking back.

"The same, Sir," he says cracking a smile. "Good luck on the beach and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"In case I don't see you again," I reply as my mind drifts toward an inevitable possibility I don't really want to think about, "Take care of yourself and your ship."

"Always, Sir. When this whole thing is over, I hope you'll let me take her to the Pacific and take care of that pirate problem from the Nippon Shogunate." I burst out into laughter. I really do admire this man. He wants to fight forever.

"You really are a salty dog, aren't you? Let's take it one step at a time there, Admiral," I say. "_But we'll see_."

"Aye, Sir," he says with a grin.

I turn away and climb down onto the cargo netting. As I slowly lower myself down, the wind and salty spray rock the ropes, slamming me up and down against the slick wet steel of the hull.

"Be careful, Sir!" I hear Hatchet scream from below. "Don't let go and time your drop!" I look down to see that the rough seas are causing the deck of the landing craft to rise and fall almost ten feet with the crest of every wave. With all this gear on my body, if I let go of the net at the wrong time, I'll break both my legs on the deck below. As I near the bottom, I hold on tight to the ropes as another gust of wind nearly pushes me into the rolling sea below.

"Now Sir!" Hatchet screams. I instinctively let go and drop. The waves crest at precisely the right time and the deck of the landing craft rises to break my fall. Hatchet and Ratchet grab me and I find my footing on the slick surface.

"Thanks for that," I say turning to her.

"It's what I'm here for, Sir."

The marines in the landing craft begin to hoot and holler in excitement as the coxswain manning the controls in the rear of the landing craft starts the engines and maneuvers us from the side of the Polaris. As we pull away, I look up to the massive guns of the battleship now silently pointing in defiance over the side of the ship. The Polaris' crew has run out on deck to send us off. They lean over the railing and gaze down at us as we zoom past in the direction of the beach. I see a thousand men and women cheering as one, waving their arms in support. They know we'll be the first boat to hit the beach. A lump forms in my throat as I wave back to them.

"_They've done their jobs flawlessly,"_ I think as I raise my rifle into the air. _"Now, it's time to do mine."_

Over the tall steel sides of the landing craft, I see the hundreds of other boats pushing away from the troop transports. They quickly motor over behind us and we take our position in front of the flotilla. As the seas continue to writhe and spit around us, we begin to move in formation towards the beach.

Another burst of TEC coastal artillery fires in our direction. It's remarkable how much more naked I feel floating in this steel bathtub than when I was behind the thick armor of a battleship. The shells explode in the waters around us, but we press forward to the objective. It is but a small sign of things to come.


	15. Chapter 15

The landing crafts cut through the heavy surf, bobbing and rolling on their long trip to the fortified shore. The wind blows the crest of the waves over the sides of the boat and the water rains down on us in a thick white spray. I look around to the nervous faces around me, heavy with concern and fear at the imminent unknown that bears down on us. Even Hatchet, the old warrior, seems distant as if she's lost in her thoughts. Ratchet can tell something is off about her as well. He occasionally glances over concerned but knows better than to ask anything aloud. Tiller holds his assault rifle to his chest, anxious to see action. I know that he would rather be in the sky with the other attack squadrons, but he knows his place is here with us. Doc once again shoulders his heavy medical kit along with his other equipment. Of all of us, I have the most respect for him. He above all faces the hardest choice: when to take life or when to save it…._and he will do both today._

The effect of so many us crammed into the landing craft definitely gives the impression of what it must be like to be in a can of sardines. As a result, I am thankful that the crowd of marines around us has quieted down. They seem more focused now as we close to within a few miles of the beach, well inside the range of the TEC's coastal artillery.

The clusters of other boats stretch out to either side of us all the way to the horizon. It took the combined resources of two nations working furiously for almost two years to assemble this invasion. If the TECs push us back into the ocean, this war could be lost…but I _refuse_ to let that happen.

Suddenly, the earpiece inside my helmet comes to life.

_"Mockingjay, this is Valkyrie 1,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun says over the radio. _"TAC air is on station and ready for Close Air Support Missions."_

"Roger that Valkyrie," I reply into my microphone. "You're right on time. Standby on this frequency for further instruction.

_"This is Valkyrie, Acknowledge."_

The heavy seas grow worse as we close to within four miles of the beach. I look out over the bow ramp of the landing craft to see the TEC positions, severely damaged by the naval barrage, but still imposing with their acres of metal abatises and concrete bunkers built into a gentle sloping sand ridge at the rear of the beach. Flashes appear from the bunkers as the TEC coastal artillery opens up on the flotilla. The sound of the cannons reaches our ears just as the shells begin to explode in the water around us sending shockwaves that nearly capsize the landing craft. I scream to the coxswain in the rear of the boat

"Tell the flotilla to hold their formation! If we hit the beach spread out, there's no way we'll be able to hit those obstacles and they'll cut us to pieces!"

"Aye Sir!" he screams back to me as he reaches for his radio.

"Valkyrie 1, Mockingjay," I scream into my microphone trying to maintain my calm. I look over to the rest of the occupants of my boat. Hatchet starts to push her way past a few marines and over to the bulkhead. She pulls herself up the side and vomits directly into the writhing sea. I'm scared now, because I know that if she's this sick, she may not be able to move when we hit the sand and will be an easy target for the waiting TEC gunners. Another enemy shell explodes a few dozen yards away and sends the boat into another fierce roll. Hatchet nearly goes overboard, but a marine grabs her waist and pulls her back in just time.

"Ratchet!" I scream angrily over the deafening sound of the explosions and waves crashing against the side of the boat. "Grab Hatch and hold onto her. She can puke on my boots for all I care but she doesn't get separated from us again."

"Yes Sir," He screams pushing his way through the mass of marines and grabbing Olivia by the vest. She fights him at first but soon realizes he's just following my orders and gives in. I'm about to move over to her, when I hear Air Brigadier Valderoun reply to my message.

_"Mockingjay, Valkyrie 1, Go ahead." _I see Doc come to Hatchet's aide instead and I go back to the bigger mission at hand.

"Valkyrie, we've got TEC artillery dug into the beach. They'll blow us to pieces before we even hit sand. You're cleared hot!"

_"Roger, Mockingjay. Standby, we are inbound."_

I push over to Hatchet who has regained her composure. She fiercely pushes Doc away as she climbs back to her feet.

"Sergeant Hightower, don't bulls… me!" I scream right in her ear. "Do you need to stay in the landing craft or are you able to carry on with the mission?" She looks me dead in the eyes and then punches me as hard as she can in my face. I fly backward into the crowd of marines before stumbling back forward.

"Does that answer your question, Sir?" she yells. A few marines move forward to subdue her but I wave them off.

"All I needed to hear, Sergeant," I say massaging my sore jaw. Suddenly, we hear a roar above us in the clouds. The Valkyrie attack hovercraft appear like phantoms out of the overcast sky. Their stubby wings and tails are painted a fierce bright red and are emblazoned with the seal of the UDP. I smile in relief as they zoom in perfect formation toward the beach, skimming only a few hundred feet off the water. As they move over they shore, they launch a hail of missiles into the TEC artillery bunkers, sending shards of steel and concrete rubble in all directions. Massive plumes of smoke start to rise from the shattered gun positions. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, they climb almost straight up and vanish back into the soup.

_"Mockingjay, Valkyrie 1,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun says into my earpiece again. _"We hit the targets, do you want us to repeat our run?"_

"Good shooting, Valkyries," I say into my microphone. "_You're the angels on our shoulders. _Negative, conserve your ordinance and fuel. We'll still need you before the day is over."

_ "Roger, Mockingjay. Returning on station and still standing by for further instructions."_

The landing crafts are now less than a mile from the beach. I look out to see dozens of blue-armored TECs emerging from their shelters and take positions overlooking the landing site. The survivors of the naval barrage and airstrike are raddled, but still ready to fight. A few of them defiantly raise a TEC flag over one of the intact bunkers. It begins to wave wildly in the high winds. Another burst of salt spray hits me and soaks me from head to toe, but the adrenaline building in my bloodstream prevents me from feeling the cold chill on my skin.

"When we hit the beach," I scream loud enough for everyone in the landing craft to hear, "spread out! Don't make it easy for them. Keep moving forward and clear paths for the tanks. They'll only be two types of people on this beach when the sun sets, the dead and those waiting to die…_don't be one of those!_" The marines all reply with a deafening

"_Hoorah!_"

"I want that TEC flag up there in my hands by lunch. Do you all understand?"

"_Hoorah!_"

I look over at my team again. Hatchet has seemingly regained her strength and is shouting orders at the team again.

"Ratchet you take the left, Tiller you're on the right. Doc bring up the rear and try not to die, understand?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Sir," she continues still in her old form, "You stay right on my ass and don't you dare move from it!"

"Roger that, Hatch," I say with a grin. Despite everything she's been through, she still is trying to protect me.

"_Ping, Ping, Ping_," We hear as TEC machine gun rounds begin to ricochet off the steel plating of the bow ramp.

"Standby to beach!" The coxswain screams from the rear of the landing craft. The marines rush forward to the bow and raise their weapons at the ready. The entire boat jerks violently to a halt as the flat bottom slams into the sandy bottom. I feel my heart beating in my chest and I take one last deep breath…

The front ramp drops with a violent thud onto the wet sand. I find my legs running forward as we all charge out of the boat onto Francian soil. The deafening sound of machine gun fire combines with the fierce war cry of the marines as we rush straight ahead into the maelstrom.

I see a marine in front of me take a burst of rounds to the chest and collapse to the sand. I instinctively dive to the right as another hail of bullets slams into the ground right where I was standing. I look ahead and see Hatchet charging forward and firing her rifle into the TEC positions two hundred yards in front of us. Ratchet and Tiller are right at her sides. Doc dashes over to try to help the fallen marine, but I see the young warrior is already gone. His blood soaks into the sand, staining it a deep shade of crimson. I dash over and grab Doc by the vest.

"He's dead!" I shout to him over the noise. "Keep moving or you're dead too and we need you alive!" Doc instantly climbs to his feet again and we charge forward again just as a flurry of TEC bullets peppers the poor marine's corpse. A few yards ahead of us is a gigantic shell crater left in the sand by one of the Polaris' main guns. The five us drop into it for cover and are soon joined by a few of the surviving marines. Hatchet, Ratchet, and Tiller take positions on the crater's edge and open fire with their assault rifles. They begin to snipe at exposed TECs on the ridge above us. Doc moves to a marine who took a bullet through the shoulder and begins to try to stop the bleeding. I take the opportunity to get my first glimpse of the battlefield. The bunker with the TEC flag above it is directly ahead and has a machine gun team inside which is unloading a hailstorm of bullets onto the brave UDP soldiers huddled below. Those unlucky enough to not find cover in time fall in heaps.

The rest of LaSalle's infantry has surged forward on the beach to either side of us and has already reached the cover of the metal abatises at the base of the ridge. They wildly return fire with their rifles but I know that small arms will not breach the TEC line.

"_What we need are the…"_

A second wave of landing crafts reach the shore behind us. They drop their ramps and I hear the deafening roar of turbines engaging. LaSalle's tanks scream forward from the boats onto the beach and begin to make their way to our positions.

I reach down and find my radio.

"All UDP forces! Armor's hit the beach!" I scream to all the units around us. "Engineers, hit the obstacles with your bangalores! Infantry, cover them!"

Up and down the beach, teams of sappers break cover and move forward to the twisted steel and wire of the final rows of obstacles while the rest of the UDP forces fire away furiously with their rifles. They know the tanks are useless until we make a path for them. Their tracks cannot climb over the obstacles without getting stuck and they cannot fire their devastating cannons over us without risking friendly casualties.

The sappers reach the row of obstacles and begin threading long pieces of pipe filled with high explosive underneath the bottom of the abatises. In a few furious seconds, their work is completed and they run back to the rest of the force under covering fire. When I see that the last of the sappers are safe, I give the order:

"Fire the bangalores!"

"_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_" Along the length of the entire row of shore, the bangalores explode, sending debris and sand a hundred yards into the air as they rip ten yard wide holes in the TEC obstacles. The tanks see their opportunity, and with another roar of their mighty engines, charge forward into the breaches made by the sappers. As soon as they pass through the dismounts, they let loose with their main guns. High explosive shells rip into the TECs with surgical precision, tearing huge gaps in the defender's lines and clearing the way for our advance.

The UDP infantry moves up and takes cover behind the massive steel behemoths as they lumber forward on grinding tracks up the gentle slope toward the TEC lines.

"Let's move!" Hatchet yells to the rest of us as she charges out of the crater and moves into cover behind the nearest tank. The other four of us soon join her and follow the steel beast up the rise to the top of the hill.

I look to my left and see a trench dug along the crest of the rise that leads to the TEC machine gun bunker. It still has a few fanatical TECs in it who fire their rifles futilely into the armor of the tank. The leviathan quickly traverses its turret over and dispatches the enemy with a few quick bursts of his coaxial machine gun.

The commander of the tank opens his hatch and pops his head out to signal us that we are clear to enter the trench. As the rest of the Mockingjay team and I bolt over to drop into the trench, the rear door of the bunker flies open and a TEC pops out with a shoulder lauched anti-tank rocket. The five of us raise our rifles and fire, but just as the TEC falls under our bullets, he fires the rocket directly into the side of the tank's turret. An explosion blows across the tank's side, sending hundreds of pieces of jagged shrapnel right into the exposed commander. He drops back down in the turret dead.

The five of us charge forward down the trench and reach the rear of the bunker. Hatchet, Ratchet, and Tiller stack on the door while I pull a hand grenade from my vest. Doc stays back to pull security behind us. I take my position and wait for Hatchet's signal. After she gives me a silent nod, I pull the pin, and heave the grenade directly inside the bunker.

_"BOOM!"_ the explosion rips through the inside of the concrete stronghold and the three of them charge inside. Bursts of rifle fire echo from the door, and by the time I run inside behind them, the remaining TECs inside lie dead on the floor.

The enemy machine gun that caused so much carnage on the beach below now lies silent, it's red hot barrel still smoking in the humid sea air. I look over to the rest of the team expecting some kind of victorious cheer or shout, but there is only hard silence. Tiller turns back around towards me, and I see his eyes grow wide with anger. I spin around and see a framed portrait of Grosfrere, staring back at me from the rear wall of the bunker with defiant hatred. Slowly, I walk over, rip it from the wall, and throw it to the ground. With a hard stomp of my boot, I smash it to pieces and walk back outside.

I climb up outside the trench and look to the beach below. More waves of UDP infantry and tanks have landed and pushed the TECs back from their fortified positions and into Francia. For a few brief moments, we are safe. _The beach is secure._

I walk about a hundred yards down the ridge. Our first victory of the invasion has cost of us dearly. The TEC defenders made us pay for every inch of sand with blood and lives. A few hundred of our finest young men and women lie dead and hundreds more are wounded. Doc, along with the other medics, does what he can, but we know it will never be enough. What we truly owe the fallen, is our eternal thanks. We can never forget their sacrifice.

I find a relatively quiet spot, sit on the sand, and pull off my helmet. The rest of the team slowly gathers around me as I monitor my radio. The highlanders have secured the cliffs of the western most beach. Tragically, they have also suffered heavy casualties. The rest of the UDP Marines along with the British commandoes have pushed their way inland, but are taking fierce resistance from TEC reinforcements moving up from inland.

Finally, I can't take it anymore and pull out my earpiece for a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Every fiber of my being wants to break down and stop, but I know we must fight on. I look out back toward the ocean and take a deep breath of the salt air. I just try to be thankful that the five of us have made it here unscathed and are ready to continue our mission.

"You know," I hear Hatchet's voice from behind me, "on any other day, it would be absolutely beautiful here…" I look over my shoulder to see her sitting with Ratchet on a small sand dune. He gently holds her hand in his. I smile as I think that in all the hatred and death of this morning, a small bit of love lives on. Tiller stares out contemplatively at the waves as well.

"What are you thinking there, Sergeant Osprey?" I ask him quietly.

"Sir, I'm just thinking I'm happy to still be alive…"

_"You and me both."_ I pause for another few seconds before I replace my earpiece and helmet. "Alright, let's find Doc and form up. We have to push forward with the tanks and rendezvous with Brigadier LaSalle at that TEC village."

Just as we all climb to our feet, I hear a voice from behind me.

"Sir." I turn around to see a marine. I recognize him as the one who pulled Hatchet back into the landing craft. He walks up and hands me a balled up piece of fabric. _"As you ordered,"_ he says calmly before turning around and marching away to rejoin his unit. I throw open the ball to reveal the TEC flag that had been flying over the bunker. Hatchet laughs as she looks down at the time on her communicuff.

"_Just in time for lunch, Sir."_


	16. Chapter 16

The late afternoon sun burns through the clouds as a few dozen UDP soldiers move down a narrow dirt road south toward the TEC village. The Mockingjay team leads the way walking behind the safety of a tank.

I made radio contact with General LaSalle before we left the shoreline. He landed with his armored column on the beach about a mile east of us and said that we should go on ahead. After securing his sector of the beachhead, he would continue on another route and be at the rendezvous point soon after our arrival there.

The heat of the day, combined with the long march begins to bake us in our armor, but we carry on. After almost five miles, we come to the outskirts of the Francian settlement. I order the vehicles to stop behind a grassy hill and order the Mockingjay team to come with me to scout things out. We maneuver through a ditch at the edge of a large cattle pasture. The lumbering bovines continue to graze oblivious, to the events around them. Finally, we reach a point behind a thicket of trees that lets us view the village unobserved.

The five of us lie down in the grass and pull out our binoculars. I peer through the lenses towards the brick and white plaster buildings. In the center of them is the feature of TEC architecture that I have come to loath the most: a five story white marble pyramid climbs toward the sky. I cannot help but think back to the Francian village that Grosfrere torched to the ground because of us. I grit my teeth in the resolve that this village will never share in that fate.

"This place looks deserted," Doc says.

"I highly doubt it," I respond warily. "Those tank turbines are pretty damn loud. I wouldn't be surprised if every civilian is shaking in the dark of their cellar…_or worse_."

"What do you mean '_worse_,' Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"I'm just praying that the TEC army hasn't gotten here first," I reply nervously.

"Let them try to harm innocent people again because of us," Hatchet says defiantly. "They haven't seen me angry yet."

"I admire your spirit, Sergeant," I say still scanning the empty streets with my binoculars, "but restraint is the word. I don't want to see any civilian hurt in reprisals that doesn't have to be."

Suddenly, we hear sporadic gunfire coming from inside the village.

"Get down!" Hatchet says as we ready our weapons for contact. We flatten ourselves into the earth hoping that we'll be able to slip back to our forces before the TECs reach our position, however, someone else takes care of the enemy for us. A few hundred yards to the front, we see a single TEC soldier, running towards the fields from in between two buildings. He is disarmed with hands flailing wildly as he bolts for his life. Hatchet readies herself for the shot, but before she can fire, the TEC is cut down by a hail of bullets fired from inside the village.

"What the hell?" I ask reaching for my binoculars again. I see a group of four Francians calmly walk up to the fallen TEC. Each one is wearing a strange mix of TEC civilian jumpsuits and ancient clothing similar to the resistance fighters in the broadcast we received in Tower Control weeks ago. All of them carry a rifle (no doubt stolen from the TECs who used to occupy their town). They move to the corpse, ensure that the soldier in the blue armor is no longer breathing, and then carrying him back between the buildings.

"Sir!" Doc says pointing to something. "Look at the pyramid." I glance over and see a banner drop from the top of the marble structure. It is a simple piece of fabric, painted in the distinctive tri-color of the Francian Resistance.

"I'll be damned…" I say muttering under my breath. "They did it, they really did it. We might have a shot at winning this thing yet…"

We quickly rush back to our waiting reinforcements and move forward again toward our rendezvous. I give explicit instructions for everyone to maintain their calm and not to seem hostile to the Francians. Just because these particular villagers have decided to fight against Grosfrere doesn't necessarily mean they're on our side.

The tank in front of us roars to a halt on the outskirts of the settlement. I look up to see the tri-color still fluttering in the breeze above the buildings. I cannot help but think how bold a statement this is on the part of the villagers. There are still plenty of scattered TECs in this countryside and now every one of them will be drawn here like a moth to a flame.

"Let's go," I say to the Mockingjays. I order the rest of the UDP soldiers to maintain their position outside the settlement. We don't make it more than a few steps inside the village before we are met by an armed squad of Francians. The one who appears to be their leader steps forward. He has a long overcoat over his white jumpsuit and rags wrapped around his head to conceal his face. He _also_ keeps his rifle in front of him at the ready apparently unsure if I view all people in the TEC as enemies. We stare back at each other with quiet respect for a few long moments before I finally make the first move. I'm really glad I had Maggie teach me a few words of ancient Francian before we left.

"Bonjour," I say raising my right hand in a gesture of peace. Slowly, the resistance leader unwraps the rags from his face. He is a young man, but has the face of someone who has aged before their time due to hardship and labor.

"Your accent is horrible, General," he says with a grin. "Welcome to Francia. We have been expecting you since your broadcast to us a year ago…it certainly took you long enough to arrive." I look around to the other members of my team who just chuckle with amusement.

"I'm honored, Sir," I say back to the resistance leader. "I guess I'll have to have your help to work on the accent."

"I am a fighter, Monsieur," he says walking up to me and holding out his hand, "not a miracle worker. _Luc Renoir_."

"General Ares Snow, UDP Defense Forces," I say back with a laugh.

Renoir leads us toward the pyramid at the center of town.

"Most of the TECs stationed here broke and ran to join Grosfrere's main army to the east," he explains as we walk. "The ones they left behind were definitely not their best." He leads us into the square in front of the pyramid. Tied to the execution posts in front of their former symbol of power, ten TEC's, still in their blue armor, hang limply by their wrists. "It didn't take much to overwhelm them and take their weapons. The shipments of supplies that your hovercraft have been dropping in our fields by night have been most helpful, but we would still appreciate whatever you can spare now, General."

"I'm sure we can work something out," I say quietly.

"Well, we definitely have five sets of body armor that we're willing to spare," Hatchet mutters patting at her chest.

The rest of the villagers appear happy that we have arrived, but still seem unconsciously unsure of our presence. It's completely understandable. After being told their entire lives that the Supreme Lawgiver was invincible, they're no doubt definitely afraid of his return. Their act of insurrection has made their intentions clear: they will win their freedom or die facing the consequences.

I make contact with Brigadier LaSalle again and he arrives with another advance column of his tanks just as night begins to fall. With Renoir's permission, we begin moving our troops and vehicles from the beachheads into the farm fields around the village. As the hundreds of tanks and thousands of soldiers move into impromptu staging areas in the once peaceful pastures, we know that the TECs will target their counterattack right at us. The other villagers come up to Renoir to complain, but he allays their fears with a simple fact: the more UDP forces that are here, the safer they will be from TEC retaliation.

Renoir takes the Mockingjay team and Brigadier LaSalle to the village inn that has become his headquarters. We take a seat at a wooden table underneath another tri-color banner. One of the servers produces a bottle of local wine which we all gratefully share except for Hatchet who says she is too tired to drink.

"Thanks for the hospitality, Sir," Brigadier LaSalle says to Renoir before taking a sip from his glass.

"It is us who should be thanking you, Monsieur," Renoir replies. "Things have never been easy here. We have always suffered under Grosfrere's rule with no end in sight, but after you began your war, we now believe that once again, Francia will be free."

"What's the deal with flag?" I finally ask as my curiosity gets the better of me.

"That flag was once our national colors," Renoir says with a deep reverence in his voice. "It has always been forbidden as a symbol of the decadent past, but somehow the old ones have always kept its memory alive through the centuries in the hearts of all true patriots. It was not a hard choice as the symbol of our resistance."

"Speaking of the resistance," I say. "Do you have any contacts with other cells further east?"

"No," Renoir replies to my disappointment. "We could not risk making our plans known to others before the time was right to strike. The only people who knew of this village's intentions were those I have known since my birth and I'm sure that this will be the case in all of the TEC, Monsieur. Grosfrere has eyes and ears everywhere. Anyone who speaks too much will meet the fate of those you have seen in the propaganda broadcasts."

"In that case, do you know of a place we could look to acquire _discreet_ transportation?" Hatchet asks.

"Why?" Renoir asks.

"The five of us are trying to get to Germania as quickly as possible," I say taking a sip of wine.

"Germania!" Renoir asks surprised. "Why in the Lord's name do you want to go there? It may be the only place in the entire country where the Supreme Lawgiver is looked on with genuine love. Only Grosfrere's most fanatical supporters are allowed to live there."

"There's somebody there I've always wanted to meet…" I say trailing off.

"Well, I am afraid that we cannot help, but the place you should try next is Village Francia 24602, about ten miles southeast of here. It is a railway hub and no doubt has some ways to get you to Germania."

"Is it as loyal to Grosfrere as you are?" I ask hopefully.

"With the way that the Supreme Lawgiver has forced them to serve him…_probably much less, Monsieur."_

One of Brigadier LaSalle's staff officers comes running in the door with a written message. As LaSalle reads it, he looks as distraught as if he was receiving word of the death of a loved one.

"What?" I say becoming worried.

"The eastern advance of the marines and British commandos has collapsed…" LaSalle says not looking up from the paper. "They fought as long and hard as they could, but the TEC reinforcements were just too much. Ten divisions worth of armor, almost three thousand tanks, is headed right for us. They'll be here by late tomorrow morning."

"My Lord!" Renoir says jumping to his feet. "What are you going to do?" he says looking at me with a frantic face. "They will raze this place to the ground."

"Don't worry, Monsieur," I say looking back to our newest ally with a steely face. "You fought for us today, and tomorrow we'll fight for you."

LaSalle, Hatchet, and I quickly formulate a plan for the next day's battle before heading over to the Brigadier's new encampment in a cow pasture outside of town. Two Hundred of his tanks are tightly coiled facing outward in defensive positions. The other eight hundred UDP tanks are scattered throughout the valley. All of them will see action in the morning.

"Are you sure you don't want to assume command for the battle, Sir?" LaSalle asks me as the Mockingjays and I follow him among the rows of armored vehicles frantically preparing for action in the dark.

"No, Darius. This is your army and you should be at its head." He nods in appreciation as he brings us to a stop in front of a damaged tank. Mechanics are working furiously to repair it.

"Well, Sir," he continues. "Since you and the rest of your team can't go anywhere until we deal with this counterattack, I was wondering if you could help out in another way. This tank company was under Captain Peabody, my finest young commander. He trained his crews to be the best and they are. They'll be the main effort tomorrow during the battle."

"_But?_" I ask concerned.

"Captain Peabody led his column onto the beaches this morning and took a TEC rocket right to the turret. The tank is a little banged up, and the rest of his crew is alright, but he didn't make it… I need an experienced tanker in command of his vehicles."

"Surely, you have somebody else?" I ask.

"Yes Sir, but no one with your combat record in a turret. With three of them for every one of us, I need every old hand that I can get." I nod understandingly.

"Sir," Hatchet says to me concerned. "We have another mission, we can't afford to get you hurt or even worse…_killed_"

"Brigadier LaSalle's right, Hatch," I say staring her in the face. "There's no way we can make it through to Village 24602 with ten divisions of enemy in the way. We've got to break through their lines."

"What about the rest of us, Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"Well, Ratch, You and Tiller see what you can do to help get the damaged tanks ready for action. Doc, I'm sure their medics need all the help they can get." The three of them nod silently. "And Hatch, I'm sure they'll need an experienced infantryman for the fight."

"Definitely," Brigadier LaSalle says. "My personal security detail could use another experienced Sergeant First Class."

"_Great_…babysitting another officer," she says rolling her eyes. Neither of us have the courage to reply.

I give one last order before we all separate.

"After the battle, rendezvous back at the village. We'll dump whatever equipment we don't need with Renoir and move out to infiltrate through the broken TEC lines."

"And if they're not broken after the battle, Sir?" Doc asks.

"_They will be_," I say gritting my teeth. I refuse to fail. We've come too far for that.

Doc leaves toward LaSalle's aide station and Tiller joins in helping the mechanics refit my new vehicle. Before Ratchet joins him, I look over to see him share one last moment with Hatchet. They sneak into a dark corner between two vehicles where they think I won't notice.

"You be careful out there," he says wrapping his arms around her. "I just got you and I damn well don't want to lose you now."

Hatchet grips him tightly and leans in close to his ear.

"I love you with every piece of me," she says as a tear falls down her cheek. "When I fight tomorrow, it'll be for only one reason: _to get back to you_."

"I love you, Olivia," he whispers back. "You're my whole world now."

I am happy for them and jealous at the same time. How I wish I could have Lizzy here at this moment, but I have to settle for a slow glance up to the stars and a single prayer to the night sky that my love will somehow find her. When I say my peace, I go to meet my new crew. I hope they're as good as Brigadier LaSalle says because tomorrow my life will be in their hands.


	17. Chapter 17

I must admit, it feels really good to be back in a tanker's jumpsuit. The sun is still a couple hours from rising as I walk towards my waiting tank. My new crew is already making the final preparations. It seems that Brigadier LaSalle was not exaggerating at all. They truly are the best, and I'll need them.

_Three to one_. That means for every UDP tank that falls in battle, at least three TEC tanks will have to be destroyed or we'll be swept off the field like leaves before a hurricane. I know we can do it, but it's still not a very reassuring thought.

Hatchet left with Brigadier LaSalle to join his headquarters section about an hour ago. I found it curious that she didn't say goodbye to Ratchet before she left, but I guess I shouldn't. The two of them have started to read each other's emotions very well and I guess they said all they needed to last night.

Now, as I climb aboard my new vehicle, I look over to see an exhausted Ratchet, just having finished spending all night recalibrating the tank's transmission. He stands next to Tiller and Doc. All of three of them stare up at me with a unique mix of nerves and confidence. They know that the danger of what I am about to face is real, but somehow realize that I will come back alive.

I nod to them one final time before dropping down inside the steel turret and taking my seat in the commander's position. I take a few moments to refresh myself with the layout of the vehicle. I sit on the rear right of the turret with my gunner sitting in front and below me. My knees come about two inches from the back of his head. The loader doesn't have a chair. Instead, he stands to my left in front of the ammunition locker at the rear of the turret. The driver is separated from us. His place is down in the hull at the front of the tank. The only way we can communicate is through the intercom which is linked to the headset in our helmets.

Between me and the loader is the breach of the massive cannon. When the gun fires, the entire assembly recoils backward into the turret almost to the rear wall. I remember back in training, there was a loader in another tank that was too careless and drifted behind the breach without anyone else realizing. When the gunner fired, it pinned the poor fool between the back of the gun and the turret wall so hard that it crushed his ribcage, killing him instantly. From that point on, I always had a deep respect and fear for this machine. It will obey your commands, but if you disrespect its power, you too can be a victim of it as well as your enemies.

I look through my scope just a few inches in front of my face. Even though my crew already checked it out for me, I still personally verify that everything is working and in focus. I pan the sensors back and forth with the joystick down by my right side. During the battle, my entire world will be this screen. Everything, friend and enemy alike, is illuminated in the green glow of my thermals. I must know the difference between them and make the call. This is my primary job as the tank commander. I spot targets for the gunner and put him right on target with the push of a button on my joystick. When I designate an enemy, the turret will automatically move the gun onto the target, allowing him to kill it in seconds. The whole process is extremely fast, and it will have to be today.

The radio suddenly crackles to life with the voice of Brigadier LaSalle.

_"All units, this is Groundpounder 1, begin engine start and prepare for movement."_

"Alright, you heard him, Driver," I say into my headset. "Spin up the engines."

_"Roger, Sir."_ The driver hits the ignition, and the tank roars to life with a terrible low-pitched hum which is deafening even inside the thick armor plating of this seventy-ton monster. A chill actually runs down my spine as I remember what it's like to have this much raw power at my finger-tips. Infantry combat on the ground is intense, but there's nothing quite like the rush of fighting from a tank.

_"Sir,"_ the driver says through the intercom. _"All gauges are green. We are Redcon 1."_

"Roger, Good copy, Driver."

One by one I receive word from each of my other tanks that they are ready to move. When the last reports in, I key the radio.

"Groundpounder 1, Mockingjay."

_"Go ahead, Mockingjay."_

"Roger, We are Redcon 1. Ready to move out."

_"Good copy. Start your movement and we'll be right behind you."_

I order my tanks to begin their movement southeast towards the advancing TECs. As we pull into formation, the rest of LaSalle's eight hundred tanks slowly pull into formation across a four-mile wide front to either side of us. Slowly, it finally starts to hit just how large the scope of this operation really is. When all this is over and done, it might be one of the largest battles ever fought.

We drive a little over two miles outside of Renoir's village. In the time that takes, the sun creeps over the horizon and illuminates us with the first few bright rays of day. The steady vibration of the tank's engines causes my eye lids to grow heavy. I haven't slept in over two days and I'm finally starting to feel it. I have to give myself a little slap to jog me back to reality. This is _not_ the time to be losing focus. Finally, we arrive at the position LaSalle and I decided on the night before: a huge stretch of open field and pasture. Perfect for engaging the TECs in the open. If their advance has remained steady, they'll be here in about half an hour.

We spread our forces out behind a rolling chain of hills on the western side of the fields with my company in the very middle. Hiding just on the reverse crest of the hillside will be enough to conceal us from the enemy until we decide to reveal ourselves to them.

Minutes pass. My palms grow sweaty from nervousness as I scan back and forth across the field with my scope. We'll have one chance for surprise: _one chance_ to take out as many of them as possible before they get a fix on our positions and come at us like an armored tsunami…

"Sir!" My gunner screams looking through his sights. "Enemy tanks 12 o'clock!" I scan over and finally see them. Cresting over the hills just a mile away is the massive horde of TEC vehicles, rolling in tight formation directly at us. I don't know if they've spotted us yet, but I'm not going to take the chance.

"All UDP armored elements! Enemy tanks 12 o'clock! Load Sabot!"

Without hesitation, my loader opens the door to the ammo locker, pulls out a forty pound armor-piercing shell, and shoves it into the breach of the cannon which automatically slams shut with a loud, _"Clank!"_

"Up!" he shouts as he slams the safety lever to the armed position. He says this phrase to let me know that he is safely out of the way and we are ready to engage. His whole operation takes less than five seconds.

I keep watching the TEC tanks through my scope. Fear grows inside as they keep coming. Hundreds upon hundreds, grinding towards us on their metal tracks. They stretch across my entire field of vision. It appears their strategy is simple: _overwhelming, merciless force. _Unfortunately for them, I have no intention of backing down today.

Brigadier LaSalle left it up to me to start the attack. As soon as the enemy is completely in the open, I give the signal…

"Valkyries! Now! Now!"

"_Roger, Mockingjay, We are inbound. Might wanna button up,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun's voice says crackling in my earpiece. Her hovercrafts were already waiting on station. It takes them less than half a minute to come streaking in formation from the northwest. The TECs are taken completely off guard as waves of attack ships begin pouring missiles and bombs into their ranks. I watch the carnage through my thermal scope. Enemy tank after enemy tank explodes in massive fireballs as tons of metal and earth are sent flying into the air. The sky outside my hatch grows dark from the burning clouds of black smoke rising from the smoldering hulks. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, the UDP hovercrafts disappear again into the clouds. Their attack was brief, but served its purpose. The confused TECs have broken formation. They drive around wildly trying to figure out exactly what just happened. Their disarray is what I've been waiting for. I shout my fire command into the radio to all my other vehicles.

"Groundpounder elements, Sabot, Tanks, Frontal, Simultaneous Fire..."

"Identified!" my gunner shouts as he locks his sights on an enemy.

"Drivers Up! Fire and Adjust!" I scream into my headset. In one massive line, all the UDP tanks across the entire front surge over the top of the hill, creating a solid four mile long firing squad of steel death facing the disoriented TECs.

"On the way!" my gunner shouts as he pulls the trigger.

_"BOOM!"_ echoes across the north Francian plains as eight hundred tanks fire their cannons at exactly the same time. The front of the TEC rank explodes into another chaotic mess of fiery explosions.

The cannon's breach recoils backwards mere inches from my left arm before slamming forward again back into battery. The steel breach block drops, ejecting the empty shell casing to the metal floor of the turret with another _"CLANG!"_

"Drivers back!" I shout into my headset and the entire UDP line once again disappears back behind the cover of the hilltops. The loader reflexively grabs another shell and slams it into the gun.

"Up!"

"Good shooting, Groundpounders," I tell the others through the radio. "Fire at will!"

Now that I've released the other tanks to attack individually, I go to work spotting targets for my gunner.

A surviving TEC tank dashed from left to right across my scope.

"Gunner, Sabot, Tank!" I press the button on my joystick which immediately locks him onto the target.

"Identified!"

"Driver Up, Fire!" My tank surges forward again.

"On the way!"

_"BOOM!"_ we send another deadly round downrange. It strikes the TEC vehicle right in the side armor. The enemy tank comes to a dead stop almost instantaneously.

"Driver Back!" We duck down behind the hill again.

We continue to engage targets like this for a few more minutes. The TECs are being devastated, but they are not defeated yet. They start to reform their groups and begin to return fire. Slowly, I start to receive reports of UDP vehicles being hit and disabled. We can't afford this. It's time to move…_now_.

"Groundpounders, advance now! Give them moving targets to shoot at."

Our lines push forward over the hillside, advancing toward the TECs with the goal of pushing them into a full retreat. Exposing ourselves like this is risky, but the armor is thickest in the front of the vehicle. If you have to take a hit, better to take it there than risk getting flanked sitting still.

We drive ahead, firing as we go. The TECs are so shocked by our fierce barrage they actually begin to retreat. We push past the burning hulks of dead TEC tanks as the surviving targets of opportunity grow less and less as the enemy disappears back toward the east. I'm finally starting to relax a bit as I think the battle might be drawing to a close until suddenly I see a streak fly past in my thermal scope.

_"BOOM!"_ The tank a hundred yards to my right explodes. I hear screaming in my radio as its crew tries to bail out of their burning vehicle. I order two other tanks to fill the gap in the line, when suddenly another streak slices through my scope. _"BOOM!"_ another tank further down the line explodes.

"Groundpounders! We got a dismounted anti-armor team with rockets out there. Scan! Scan!" I shout into the radio. My gunner spots them first. They must have somehow dismounted from an armored personnel carrier hidden among the enemy tanks. Five TECs hide in a ditch that cuts across the battlefield. They're armed with shoulder fired missiles that have the potential to kill a lot of good people if we don't stop them.

"Gunner, Coax, Troops!" I shout.

"Identified!"

"Fire!"

"On the way!" My gunner lets loose with the coaxial machine gun mounted next to the main cannon. A hailstorm of bullets slices through the air and makes mincemeat of the dismounted TECs.

The battle rages for about another hour. We continue to slowly advance forward, engaging the retreating TECs as they flee in chaos back towards the east. The only reason that Brigadier LaSalle and I finally decide to end the pursuit is that we are fast running out of ammunition and fuel.

Our victory was hard fought and came with a cost. After the guns quieted, twenty-five of our tanks were destroyed and forty-two of our brave tankers lost their lives. However, the TECs faired much worse. Grosfrere bragged about the invincibility of his tanks and the skill of their crews, but apparently that was as much a lie as his sense of justice and mercy. Between Air Brigadier Valderoun's airstrikes and Brigadier LaSalle's tank assault, over two thousand TEC vehicles were destroyed or disabled: _two-thirds_ of Grosfrere's armor lost in one devastating day. I'm not sure if it was an inferior vehicle design or just bad training, but the TEC crews seemed unable to shoot at us from long distances, and when they finally were close enough to fire, their rounds had very little effect. Our tanks that were lost were mostly lucky hits to the engine compartment or turret joints.

Brigadier LaSalle orders the majority of his forces to take defensive positions to hold the territory we gained while resupply convoys move up to them. However, I order my tank to return to the village so that I can meet back up with the rest of the Mockingjays. The TEC advance has been stopped cold, which means that with a little bit of luck, we can make it Village 24602.

The drive back seems to take forever as I reflect on the morning's events. I am ecstatic that we were able to achieve victory, but still deeply saddened by the loss of life on _both_ sides. Staring at the enemy tanks on a screen, it is very easy to forget that each and every one of those vehicles is filled with human beings just like me. I take no pleasure in what I was forced to do, however, I do not regret my actions today. I know in my heart that they were necessary, and with the guiding hand of fate, may help bring freedom to those fallen enemies' descendants.


	18. Chapter 18

My tank returns to Renoir's village in the early afternoon. Hatchet arrives a few minutes later in an armored personnel carrier. Brigadier LaSalle decided to stay at the front to continue to plan the advance. He knows what will come next for the Mockingjays and has no need to say any kind of farewell.

"How was it?" I ask walking over to Hatchet once she dismounts from her vehicle.

"How do you think?" she says sarcastically as she picks up her rifle and slings it across her back. "I stood there with a gun right next to him while he yelled into a radio! An enemy soldier didn't get within three miles of us!"

"Consider yourself lucky, Sergeant," I say loosening the collar on my jumpsuit.

"_Lucky?_" she says sounding a bit insulted. "How about you, Sir? You were the one who got to blow away half the TEC army wearing that crazy set of fireproof tanker pajamas while I had to stand silently by like an idiot in thirty pounds of armor."

"Should have been a tanker then, Sergeant."

"Not a chance, Sir," Hatchet says with a grin. "I like being a _real _soldier too much." We both laugh.

We walk into the village together towards the inn. Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet sit around the front door waiting and nervously taking sips from a canteen that I'm pretty sure isn't water. They see us and bolt to their feet. Doc and Tiller run to me, but Ratchet goes straight into Hatchet's arms. Normally, her professionalism would push him away, but she allows him one embrace.

"I was so worried," he says wrapping his arms around her.

"You shouldn't have been," she says squeezing back. "I was more bored in the past twelve hours than I have been in the past twelve months. Now," she says pushing back from his arms, "get back, Babe. You still smell like motor oil." She gives him a quick peck on the forehead and both of them smile. The weight on my heart eases for a brief moment as I see them reunited, but returns as soon as Lizzy and Octavian flash through my mind. I've got to get this fight over with…_I've got to get back to them._

"You been monitoring the reports on the radio, Sir?" Tiller asks excited.

"Yes indeed, Sergeant," I say with satisfaction. "The TECs are in full retreat back towards Germania."

"And that means?" Doc asks hopefully. Renoir has heard our return and appears in the front door of the inn with another bottle of wine.

"We'll leave at midnight. That gives us almost twelve hours to prep and get a little rest. We push for Village 24602."

We humbly refuse Renoir's offer of wine, but gratefully accept a warm meal from the Francians that's not field rations. Unfortunately, what they call "food" in the TEC isn't much better. I believe what was served was some kind of soy and grain patty soaking in a thin gravy. Apparently, the idea of real meat is still as foreign to them as a life lived in peace without fear.

Afterwards, we find some space in a stable nearby to get some sleep. Renoir insisted that we take rooms at the inn, but the Mockingjays all agreed that those beds should go to the wounded. We're fine on the dirt. The roof over our heads is just an added bonus.

As the sun sets into darkness, we pull out our blankets and make our sleeping spaces by candlelight. The power has long since been cut by the retreating enemy. We're all exhausted, but Hatchet and I make sure everything is ready before we bed down. We check and clean our weapons, make sure what little gear we're taking is taped down to eliminate any kind of noise, and finally Ratchet pulls out the most important package of all. We requested the recipe from the UDP after we decided on Amelia's plan to destroy the "The Heart," and Ratchet whipped us up a batch with Maggie's help. I guess her knowledge extends to chemistry as well. Ironically, the formula was developed for the UDP by Ohm. At least he'll be able to make some kind of contribution to the war effort for us.

Ratchet slowly opens the small, metal case to reveal three plastic vials of viscous purple liquid resting inside thick shock-absorbing padding. It has to be transported this way because it is so unstable. We weren't thrilled with the idea of carrying this stuff, but it could be the most vital component of our mission to bring down a building as large as "The Heart." It is tri-lithium resin: the most powerful conventional explosive ever developed. Three vials detonating together is equivalent to a two-thousand pound bomb.

"Is it still good to go?" Hatchet asks nervously.

"As good as it will ever get, Sergeant," he replies as he examines the cargo. "I mean it's made it this far without any problems. Though, there were some moments on the beach that the nerves started to get me."

"Just promise me you won't sneeze too hard while you're carrying those things, brother," Tiller says.

"Trust me, man," Ratchet says back. "If this stuff goes, you won't be around to know what happened." There is a knock at the wooden door of the stable. I nod to Ratchet and he quickly closes the lid of the box and hides it back in his rucksack.

"Come in," I say when the coast is clear.

It is Renoir, carrying a large white bundle is his hands.

"I thought you might be able to use these, Monsieur," he says handing the bundle to me. I open it to find five long white cloaks, each with a massive hood. "Standard issue for civilians in the Trans-European Commonwealth. With your plan to infiltrate a village behind the lines, they may come in handy."

"Not very well camouflaged," Doc says staring at the bright, white fabric.

"But definitely useful when we get around a couple thousand TEC soldiers," I reply.

"And large enough that we can hide a rifle under them," Hatchet says encouraged. I hand the cloaks to her and she puts them with her equipment. Renoir extends a hand out to me.

"Good luck to you, _Mon Ami_," he says as we shake.

"Thank you for everything you've done for us," I say to him with gratitude.

"I did it for my country and my people, Monsieur."

"Then, I believe that Francia will be in good hands."

"Not just Francia, Monsieur. The more Grosfrere attempts to suppress word of your landings, the faster it has spread. Thanks to a generator graciously contributed by Brigadier LaSalle before he left, we were listening to the pirate broadcasts from around the TEC in the inn. The Norwegians, Greccians, and Polskians are in full revolt. There are even reports of Polskian rebel cavalry overwhelming TEC positions on horseback! You all have started something no amount of Grosfrere's bullets and bombs can stop. Europe will be free…_one way or another_."

"Take care of yourself, my friend," I say shaking his hand again.

"Now that you have seen my home, I hope to visit your land of Panem one day…"

"And I would be honored to show it to you."

"_Bonne Chance_," he says before stepping back outside. I close the door behind him and turn back to the Mockingjays.

"Sir," Doc says looking up at me with a long face. "Don't bulls… me. Do we have a chance on this mission? Sneaking all the way to Germania, breaking into the most secure building on the planet, and then making it home alive?" I pause as I reflect on his question. "I mean, there's nothing that will stop me from trying. I just want to know that if I die doing it, it wasn't for some stupid reason."

I scan to all the other faces in the dancing orange light of the candles. I owe them more than just the typical military response.

"The odds aren't good, Doc. But if somehow we pull it off, then we'll be letting a lot of other people get back to their families safely, and an entire continent will know what it's like to live free."

"What about our families, Sir?" Ratchet says glancing over to Hatchet. She just looks down to the straw covered ground.

"I can't speak for yours, but I hope that mine will understand that if I fall, it was for something more important than myself."

We all rack out for a few short hours. Doc and Tiller find places among the piles of hay and are soon snoring. Hatchet and Ratchet both climb into the loft and fall asleep side by side in each other's arms. I rest my head on my rucksack and gaze up at the bare rafters. As my eyelids grow heavy, I fall into an uneasy sleep…

Octavian is all grown up. He has turned into the type of man that I am proud of. He carries himself proudly with broad shoulders earned by years of hauling fishing nets. He holds Lizzy's arm in his. She has grown old and frail and her long blonde hair has turned to aged silver. However, her face is still as beautiful as they day I first laid eyes on it.

They slowly walk hand and hand in a grassy field near the seaside. They seem to know exactly where they are going, but it still causes them deep grief. Their pace slows as they approach a simple, white marble headstone that looks out to the ocean.

They stop and turn to it, pausing to reflect for a few moments before Lizzy produces a single red rose from inside her long coat. She looks up to Octavian who nods empathetically. He lets her go and she slowly steps forward toward the grave. Finally, just as she reaches the headstone, she collapses to her knees and begins to weep. Octavian rushes forward, but a wave of her hand causes him to step back. She gently places the flower on the grave and pushes herself up to her feet. Octavian takes her arm once more and they slowly step backward.

I finally am able to see the name on the headstone:

_Ares Snow_

_Soldier, Leader, Beloved Husband and Father_

I try to gasp for breath as I realize that I am staring down at my own grave, but nothing comes. Octavian and Lizzy become aware of my presence and stare directly at me. "You promised you wouldn't get hurt," Octavian says with a judgmental look in his eyes.

"You promised you would come back to us," Lizzy says next. Their words slice into me like an icy blade. "We've been alone for so long…_so very long_." I try to come up with some response, some comforting words to say to them, but I only hear silence. Suddenly, I feel a sharp jab in my side.

"Sir," Hatchet says shaking me awake. My eyelids fly open and I find myself back in the Francian stable. "Get up, it's time to go." She has already re-lit the candles and gotten the rest of the team up. Doc is stripping only the vital medical supplies from his bag. The rest will be left for the Francian rebels. Ratchet wraps the precious box of tri-lithium in a piece of blanket he has cut for it and secures the package to his side with a few straps.

We strip ourselves down to our uniforms and vests and leave the rest of our equipment behind: rucksacks, body armor, helmets…_everything_. All we take is our weapons, ammunition, the cloaks provided by Renoir, and a little food and water. The rest will only serve to do is slow us down and make us more obvious to any TEC patrols. I even leave my radio behind. I can't risk letting it fall into enemy hands and besides, the word of our mission's success will be plain enough: is "The Heart" destroyed or not? Finally, I take the last vital piece of gear and pin it to my shirt: The Mockingjay pin. It has come this far, and I'll make sure it makes it all the way to the end.

After another uneasy meal of cold field rations, we gather our gear, extinguish the candles, and walk out into the Francian night.


	19. Chapter 19

The stars and moon are so bright that we don't even need night-vision glasses. The distant sounds of war rage around us. Every few minutes, we see bursts of light from distant explosions on the horizon, followed a few seconds later by dull booms as allied and TEC artillery duel with each other across the front lines.

We move quickly and quietly in a column across the rolling, pastoral terrain. Hatchet is in the lead, scouting the way with the excellent edge that I have come to expect from her. She doesn't even seem to need a compass. It's like she navigates purely by instinct. Doc is right beside me while Ratchet and Tiller take up the rear. We say nothing, afraid that the slightest noise could alert nearby enemy to our position. In reality, we know that the TECs are scrambling in retreat and are probably far to the east of us, but it is that careless arrogance that will end up getting us killed so we take no chances.

I stare up at the brilliant night sky, dotted with stars, and dream of what it will be like when this war is over. I look forward to taking my son out into country much like this, and laying with our backs in the grass as I explain the constellations to him. I dream of the look of wonder on his face as I talk about the three stars of Orion's Belt, the Big and Little Dippers, and how no matter where you are, you can always look to the North Star to find your way back home.

I glance ahead again and can barely see Hatchet as she streaks her way across the terrain, cutting across darkened fields, country roads, and the thick rows of hedges that criss-cross this country. When I first saw these strange bushes, I didn't know what to make of them. When planning the mission for yesterday's battle, I asked Renoir to explain what they were. He said that they had been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. They were planted by ancient farmers to mark the boundaries of their fields, and no matter how many times armies have laid waste to this land, they have always stood as firmly rooted in the earth as the local population. He had a tone in his voice that confused me at first, but I came to quickly realize that's how he thought of himself and his fellow Francians. This land is not just where they live, it is a part of them as much as Britannia is a part of Angus, District 4 is a part of Lizzy, and District 12 is a part of Katniss. Having spent so much of my youth in a concrete building outside of the Capitol, I have never felt such a deeply personal connection to a place, but I imagine it is why people like Angus, Lizzy, and Katniss are so willing to lay down everything they have and risk it all for something that no one else but them really understands. I have a profound respect for people like them, but I fear it is something that I will never know.

By the time the sun begins to rise in front of us, we've gone almost seven miles. Hatchet motions for the team to move down towards a stream she's spotted near a grove of trees. It will prevent us from being spotted as we get our bearings, and give us a chance to take a quick and much needed break.

"We're getting close," she whispers as she collapses down onto the soft grass of the bank. We all take a long drink of water from our canteens and then refill them in the cool water of the stream. Doc pulls out a small bottle of iodine from his medical kit and places a quick drop in each of our bottles.

"So, do we stay here and wait for darkness to make our move into the village?" Tiller asks loosening the laces on his boots. As a pilot, I don't think he ever expected to need to walk as much as he has while assigned to my team.

"I don't think so," Hatchet says greedily cramming a few bits of cracker into her mouth from an open ration pack into her pocket. "Lord, I'm hungry," she mutters as finishes the last few bites.

"What do you mean, Sergeant?" Ratchet asks.

"We're in front of our lines by now," she says reaching back into her pocket and pulling out a packet of cheese spread. She opens another cracker, spreads the cheese on top, and takes another big bite. The four of us marvel considering that we watched her cram an entire ration into her mouth a few hours ago and none of the rest of us seem to have an appetite yet. "TEC civilians won't be moving around at night anymore and if we don't want to draw a lot of suspicion moving into the village, we should go in during the day," Hatchet says spraying little bits of cracker in our direction.

"You get enough to eat last night, Hatch?" I ask.

"Do you want some of mine?" Ratchet asks holding an opened field ration in her direction.

"No," she quickly snaps back at him. "Keep it for yourself. You're gonna need it and I'm fine." Ratchet sheeplishly puts the food back into his pocket.

"Well," I say moving the conversation back to the first topic. "Sergeant Hightower is right." I climb to my feet and point over to a road a few dozen yards away from us. "That should take us in the direction of the village. I say we skirt it for as long as we can, and then put on those disguises Renoir gave us and try to sneak in. Agreed?" I receive a nod from everyone else and then we're off.

We're able to stay hidden among the trees till Village 24602 comes into sight. We all are a bit taken aback but what we find. Column after column of TEC soldiers, vehicles, and equipment are pouring into the small settlement from the west. Military transport trains rapidly move in and out of the depot on the south side of the village as Grosfrere's beaten and bruised army flees in the face of the allied onslaught. However, the most concerning fact is that we can barely see the streets among the rolling sea of blue armor.

"How, the hell are we ever going to get through them and link up with the Resistance?" Tiller asks.

"Yeah, if I were the rebels, I'd be long gone after I saw that coming into my backyard," Ratchet mutters.

"A lot of luck," I say to Tiller as I take a long look with my binoculars. "Most of them seem to be congregating down by the rail depot. If we go to the north side of place, we might be able to get in unnoticed."

"And the Resistance?" Hatchet asks raising an eyebrow.

"Hopefully, they'll find us first. If not, then we'll have to find them."

"And if we can't?" Ratchet says nervously.

"Always, the pessimist," I say with a grin trying to bring the mood up. "Well, the trains are right there. Surely it can't be that hard to figure out which one is going to Germania. Still got those cloaks, Hatch?"

"Yeah, Sir. Right Here," she says pulling them from off her back.

"Alright, let's get dressed."

Luckily, it's cool enough not to look completely out of place wearing a heavy cloak, but I'm still concerned that we'll look very strange to anyone we encounter. Regardless, we have to try. After concealing our entire bodies under the white fabric and raising the hoods over our heads, we make our way down the road and slowly approach the northern half of the village.

I nervously grip my rifle under my right arm and try to walk normally, but I can't help thinking that if a blue-armored TEC gives us more than a passing glance, we'll be spotted. Somehow, we make it to the outskirts of the buildings and step inside the village.

I'm reassured when I see that this part of 24602 seems almost deserted. The shutters of the homes are tightly closed and no one is moving around except a couple of soldiers we see walking along the streets a few blocks to the south. We walk quickly, trying to find something that will tip of us off to the location of the local rebels.

"So, we're inside the village, Sir," Hatchet whispers to me. "Now what?"

"That's a _good_ question, Hatch" I whisper back as I see the white-plastered buildings in front of us look no different from the ones we just past. The symbols of the Resistance I remember from the broadcast in Tower Control and Renoir's village race through my head, but I see none of them here.

_"Why would I see them?"_ I think to myself as I realize that if the Resistance is here, they'll be doing everything in their power to stay hidden and an outsider like myself will have no chance of recognizing them. _"Hell, Renoir wasn't even sure if there was an active cell here!"_

"Let's turn south toward the depot," I say to the rest of my team. "At least we'll be heading in the direction of the train tracks."

"Isn't that really risky, Sir?" Tiller whispers back sounding a bit concerned.

"Got any better ideas?"

"Nope, I guess south it is," he replies nonchalantly. At the next intersection, we turn to our right, but after only a few steps, we run smack into a group of three TEC soldiers and my eyes immediately drop to the assault rifles they all carry in their hands. They see us and turn right in our direction. The three of them stare at the five of us with their black visors and I can see our reflection in their featureless faces. We look like a group of strange white monks in our cloaks.

_"How stupid could I be?"_ I think as my heart pounds a mile a minute in my chest. _"There's no way we're gonna fool these guys looking like this. Hell, all they have to do is ask us a question and we're screwed as soon as they hear our voices."_

Without, pulling down my hood, I bow respectfully to them and turn back in the opposite direction. The rest of the team follows my lead and we start moving toward the street we were just on as quickly as we can without looking suspicious. However, just when I think we might have survived, I turn around and see the three of them following about a hundred feet behind us.

_"Dammit,"_ I think to myself as I walk closer to Hatchet.

"Do you see?" I whisper as quietly as I can without looking at her.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "Looks like we have some uninvited guests to the party." She discreetly pulls open the front of her cloak and shows the throwing axe still hanging from her belt. "I can make it quiet, Sir."

"Not here," I say as she quickly covers the weapon back up. "It's too open. We have to lure them someplace out of the way." I look back again and they have gotten a few steps closer. They can raise the alarm at any time. The slightest shout, scream, or sound of gunfire will draw half the TEC army right to us and we'll dead on the spot.

"Better make it quick then, Sir," Ratchet says with more urgency in his voice. "They're still gaining on us."

On the next block, I see an alleyway and lead the team inside. We quickly duck between two buildings, but are immediately confronted by a solid white wall almost thirty feet tall.

"We're trapped!" Tiller says next to me. Hatchet throws open her cloak and reaches for her axe, but it's too late. Before we can turn around to face our adversaries, we hear the sound of three rifles being cocked in rapid succession. The booming, microphone enhanced voice of a TEC soldier rings out from behind us.

_"Don't Move!"_


	20. Chapter 20

_"Don't Move!"_

Hatchet looks as if she's about to reach for her axe, but a subtle nod of my head stops her. They would shoot us all before she even was able to turn around.

_"Hands up!"_ the TEC soldier commands. Slowly we all raise our arms over our heads.

"Why do they all look like druids?" says the voice of another of the TECs referring to our cloaks and hoods.

_"We're not the druids you're looking for!"_ Ratchet anxiously shouts out. I shoot an angry look in his direction for his sudden outburst and he just looks back to me shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright, _slowly_, drop your hoods and turn around," the first TEC soldier commands. Hatchet and I look at each other one more time, but know the jig is up. All five us nervously pull back our hoods and slowly turn to face our captors. When the lead TEC sees my face, he immediately drops his weapon and motions for the other two to do the same. The five us are all shocked as the lead TEC quickly removes his helmet and reveals his face.

"Welcome to Village 24602, General Snow. Quickly, put your hoods back up and come with us."

"Wait," I say dropping my hands. "Who are you?"

"The best hope for freedom in this village until you arrived, _Monsieur_."

"_The Resistance!_" I think as my heart finally starts to slow down.

"Quickly, _Monsieur_," there is enemy everywhere.

"Sir," Hatchet says abruptly. "How do we know this isn't a trap?"

"We don't, Hatch," I whisper as the resistance fighter quickly replaces his helmet. "Just keep your eyes open."

Safely concealed back under our white hoods, we follow the three rebels back out towards the street and to the north of the village. They lead us into another alley and to the doors of a cellar. Their leader knocks on the wooden entrance in a pre-arranged rhythmic pattern and the portal opens. The rebels beckon us to step inside. Hatchet hesitates, but follows as soon as I step down into the darkness. Once the five of us are safely inside, the Resistance fighters follow and bolt the doors behind us.

I walk down a set of creaking wooden steps, removing my hood again to see better in the blackness. At the bottom, I am met with another pair of resistance fighters, armed to the teeth. Their weapons and equipment glimmer in the light of dozens of candles. When they see me, I instantly recognize a look of relief and excitement in their faces. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller bunch up behind me, still not entirely sure this is safe. The lead resistance fighter, walks up to the guards, says something in ancient Francian, and the pair leads the five of us down a dimly lit stone hallway to an underground wine cellar.

The cramped space is filled with fighters in all manners and modes of dress. Some still wear the standard issue white jumpsuits, while others are almost completely kitted out in TEC equipment. A makeshift desk, made of wine barrels and wooden planks, sits in the center of the cellar. Behind it, is a woman with long, jet-black hair and piercing grey eyes. Her appearance and the way she carries herself both remind me a little of Katniss.

She looks up from a collection of papers and maps she is studying and stares at me with a huge, sly grin.

"_Mon Dieu_, why it is the General Himself," she says leaning back in her chair. "I definitely did not expect such an important person to make an appearance here this early in the war. So, _Monsieur_, what brings you to this little piece of a paradise?"

"Luc Renoir sent us here," I say not wanting to reveal too much of our plan until the time is right.

"Luc Renoir?" she says with a confused look in her eyes. "I do not recognize the name."

"He's a fellow lover of freedom, such as yourself, Ma'am," I say trying to sound confident. "He said you might be able to help us."

"_Help you?_" she asks incredulously. "Why, General, how could I help you when you are the one with the army? What you see here," she says raising her hands and pointing to the guerillas around her, "is all we have."

"Ah, you see, Ma'am, you have something here that even I don't have." I say before glancing over to Hatchet. She rolls her eyes indicating she's once again annoyed by my use of diplomatic language.

"And what is that, Monsieur?" the chief rebel asks. I walk up to her desk and lean towards her. Her entourage is nervous by my forwardness, but I sense that the leader is intrigued.

"_A way to get to Germania, Ma'am_," I say with firm emphasis. She begins to laugh so loudly, I'm afraid that she might give away our hiding place.

"Germania, _Monsieur_?" she says incredibly surprised. "Just what the hell do you intend to do there with only five soldiers? Are you trying to defect?"

"Can you help me get there or not?" I say not breaking my gaze with her. She looks over her shoulder and yells something in Francian to another fighter nearby.

"If that is really your intention, General, then yes, I can help you." She sits up and extends her hand across the desk. "Marie Dupont, _Monsieur_." I reach forward and shake her hand.

"I believe you already know my name, Ma'am."

We spend the next hour discussing our options. Finally, Dupont, Hatchet, and I come up with what we think will be the best solution.

"It is a good thing you came when you did, General," Dupont says pointing at a map of the rail lines around the village. "With all of Grosfrere's army trying to retreat, our intention was to blow the tracks tonight and trap them. However, if it is really your goal to go through with this suicide mission, then your train will be the last to get out." She gestures to a large fighter standing a few feet away. He walks up to us and takes his place next to Dupont. "Alain here has worked in the railway depot all his life. He knows everything that occurs there."

The big fighter begins pointing to the map and describing the train schedule.

"They have added ten trains a day since the war began to accommodate the increased military traffic," Alain begins, "but every night at 2015 hours, there is an express to Germania for high ranking officials and important traffic. Because so many of Grosfrere's cronies are always aboard, the train is never searched. Also, it travels to the military depot nearest 'The Heart' without stopping."

"Sounds like our ride," I mutter to myself. Hatchet nods her head in agreement. "So, how do we get aboard?"

"First, you'll have to get rid of those ridiculous disguises," Dupont says with a grin. "Civilians are not allowed near that particular train." She gestures to another group of fighters who appear with five suits of TEC officer armor. "Not only will it make you look like you're supposed to be aboard, but it will hide your faces better."

"Where did you get those?" I ask suspiciously.

"Let's just say their former owners don't need them anymore," Dupont says with a satisfied grin.

"What about our weapons?" Hatchet asks.

"We will trade you for TEC rifles, Sergeant," Dupont replies. Hatchet gets another annoyed look on her face.

"Well, at least ammo won't be hard to find," she mutters. Dupont continues.

"Next, you will need a distraction to get aboard. The standard procedure is to check the identification of everyone before the train departs, but if the train must…_expedite_…it's departure, you should be able to slip aboard unnoticed."

"Just what kind of 'distraction' did you have in mind?" I ask.

"_Us_," Dupont says firmly.

"What do you mean?" Hatchet asks.

"We will get into position around the depot, and once we see you approach the train, _we attack_. Then once you are aboard and the train departs, _we blow the whole fuc…. place_."

"And you say _we're_ on a suicide mission?" Hatchet asks. "There can't be more than twenty of you. The whole TEC army is around that place."

"Sergeant," Dupont says reassuringly, "you fight the war in your way, _and we will fight it in ours."_

"Thank you, Ma'am," I say gratefully. "Your help has the potential to bring a much faster end to this war."

"_Monsieur_," Dupont says cutting straight through my political language, "I don't know or really care what you will do in Grosfrere's capital. Frankly, I don't want to know. Just promise me that if we die getting you on that train, you make that traitorous son of a b…. pay for his crimes."

"Count on it," Hatchet says before I can respond.

The sun sets and the five of us, newly equipped with TEC weapons and armor, walk through the streets of Village 24602 toward the rail depot. Ratchet has his wife's throwing axe and the precious tri-lithium hidden in a small pack on his back.

"So, how do I look as a TEC?" Ratchet asks to Tiller sarcastically.

"Probably the exact same as I do, Genius," Tiller replies through his helmet's microphone. Doc just shakes his head in silent disapproval.

"Knock it the hell off, you two," Hatchet says angrily over her shoulder. "We're trying to blend in, remember?"

The streets are still completely empty except for the occasional patrol of TEC soldiers. However, when they see a group of officers walk by, the TECs only salute with a respectful, "_Hail Grosfrere_," and carry on in their business.

We get to the outside of the depot and see our train resting on the platform. Unfortunately, in the hundred yards between us and our transportation, is a crowd of about a thousand TEC soldiers.

"So, how do we get past these guys without being spotted?" Hatchet mutters.

"_Hail Grosfrere_," we hear in a familiar Francian accent from behind us. We turn around to see Alain and a few other resistance fighters dressed in railway depot uniforms and carrying some cargo containers. "If you fine gentlemen will follow me, I will escort you to your train." A few other TEC officers are around so I decide to join in the act.

"_Hail Grosfrere_, Citizen," I reply to him in a callous, uncaring tone. "Perform your duty." Alain nods and begins to cut a path through the crowd.

"Clear a path for the officers of the Supreme Lawgiver!" he shouts and the enlisted TECs on the platform dive out of the way as if Grosfrere himself was marching past. The other resistance fighters walk behind us with their heads down as if they were simply carrying our baggage. No one gives us a second look. Perhaps they should have, considering that every few yards, the resistance fighters clandestinely drop one of the cargo containers they are carrying among the other stacks of crates on the rail platform.

We approach the train and Alain stops us.

"There's a cargo car directly in front of us," he whispers to me when no one is looking. "Try to sneak aboard once the attack begins."

"_Bonne Chance,_" I whisper back to him.

"_Toi Aussi_," he replies before disappearing back into the crowd with the other resistance fighters. The five of us linger on the platform trying to look normal until disaster strikes.

"_Orders and Identification,_" we hear from behind us. I turn around to see a TEC soldier standing between us and the train. We look at him silently, hoping that our appearance as important TEC officers will dissuade him, but he is unfazed.

"_Orders and Identification_," he repeats more emphatically. "This is an official military transport to the capital of the Supreme Lawgiver and requires proper papers to board," he says holding out his hand. My heart races as I realize that despite my best attempt at a TEC accent, he may recognize our charade as soon as we open our mouths, and he will definitely know we're fakes when we can't produce the papers.

He begins to grasp his weapon more tightly and just when he looks ready to sound the alarm…

"_BOOM!"_ an explosion rips through the other side of the platform. Dozens of TEC soldiers go flying and dozens more begin to shout in confusion. I look over and see the TEC soldier who was questioning us has become distracted. _"BOOM!"_ another explosion detonates even closer to us and gunfire opens up on the crowd from a freight building next to the tracks.

"_Vive Francia!_" Alain screams at the top of his lungs from behind a cargo container at the freight building as he fires wildly into the crowd with a machine gun. TEC after TEC falls in the hailstorm of his bullets. Hatchet sees that all the TECs have now either fled in the opposite direction or rushed toward the gunfire to fight the rebels. She dashes over to the door of the cargo car and slides it open. The other four of us dive inside. Once on the train, I grab her arm and help her aboard and we slam the door shut again behind us. Two slits in the wall let us watch the battle unfold.

"_BOOM! BOOM!"_ two more explosions detonate on the platform, but the inevitable slowly happens as the TEC onslaught begins to overwhelm the courageous freedom fighters. Suddenly, the locomotive's engines roar to life and we feel the train pull away from the depot. Just before we clear the platform, I catch one final glimpse of Alain. He has not given one inch of ground, even as the mob of enemy closes in on him. He falls to a TEC bullet that finds its mark right through his heart. He collapses to the ground, killed instantly. The sight of his sacrifice brings the ancient Francian anthem of the rebels back through my mind:

_Aux armes, citoyens,_

_Formez vos bataillons,_

_Marchons, marchons!_

_Qu'un sang impur_

_Abreuve nos sillons!_

As the train accelerates in the darkness toward the east, a final massive explosion rocks the train depot of Village 24602. A fireball, fueled by tons of fuel and ammunition awaiting transport to the rear, reaches hundreds of feet into the air. The shockwave almost knocks us off the tracks as the remains of Grosfrere's army in Francia are consumed by the inferno.


	21. Chapter 21

After about half an hour, we feel safe enough inside the boxcar to relax and remove our helmets. It is pitch black inside, so we have to put on night-vision glasses to see each other.

"Looks like we made it," Hatchet says pulling out her canteen and taking a long drink of water.

"_To this point, Sergeant_," I say sitting down against a cargo container. "But I won't say that until 'The Heart' is rubble and we're back safely behind friendly lines."

"And you call_ me_ the pessimist, Sir," Ratchet says with a chuckle.

"Get some sleep guys," I say. "Alain told us we won't be in Germania until tomorrow morning and we'll need the rest."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Tiller says stretching out on the metal floor of the boxcar.

"What about you, Sir?" Doc says concerned.

"I'll be fine, brother," I say.

"The Sir and I will take turns, Doc," Hatchet says sitting down next to me.

"Roger, Sergeant," Doc says knowing there's no point in fighting against a united front. Soon, he's out as well. Ratchet relaxes, but can't sleep either.

He sits down next to Hatchet, but doesn't get too close because he knows it can make her uncomfortable when I'm sitting right there. The good news is I'll finally get the chance to talk to these two alone for a while.

"So, how's married life?" I ask trying to take the edge off of things.

"I'll let you know when we finally get to start enjoying it," Hatchet says leaning back against the cargo container.

"What about you, Ratch?" I say looking across Hatchet to him.

"Definitely can't complain, Sir," he says with a smile. "Still can't figure out how a guy like me ended up with such an incredible woman."

"Don't you ever forget that, either, _Grease Monkey_," Hatchet says with a coy grin. Ratchet and I manage a chuckle.

"How about you, Sir? How are things with Lizzy and Octavian?" Ratchet asks. My long pause makes him realize that he probably shouldn't have, but I answer so he doesn't feel guilty for bringing it up.

"It's hard…_very hard_. I miss them more and more every day."

"I can't imagine being away from family this long," Ratchet says.

"Well, I'm afraid in this career, you don't have much choice," I reply.

"No, Sir," Ratchet says. "I've already decided that when this whole thing is over, I'm getting out and focusing on trying to start a family…or I should say when I'm actually ready to be a father." Hatchet jumps a little bit. Obviously, just even mentioning kids sets her on edge a bit.

"Do we really have to talk about this right now with the Sir here?"

"Oh no," I say. "Don't worry about me. Pretend like I'm not even here." I roll over a bit and stare out at the night sky through the slits in the side of the boxcar. The two of them continue talking.

"You really want to get out of the military when we have kids?" Hatchet asks Ratchet surprised.

"Absolutely! We can't raise a family with a work schedule like that! They'd never see us."

"General Snow has a kid and he does just fine," she says pointing at me. I'm actually getting a little uncomfortable at this point.

"Didn't you just hear him? He says it's driving him crazy," Ratchet says. I wince a little bit but still say silent. I know it's better to not get involved in this. "Do you really want to be a mom and soldier at the same time?"

"Well…yeah!" Hatchet says raising her voice. "I don't want to sacrifice my career!" She sounds really upset right now.

"Who said anything about sacrificing your career?" Ratchet says raising his voice to match hers now.

"_You did!_ You said '_we can't raise a family with a work schedule like that_," she repeats back to him in a very patronizing tone.

"But that doesn't mean I expect you to give everything up!"

"Then what does it mean then?"

"I don't know! Say, why are you so upset? We're not gonna have kids for a long time, after all."

"What?" Hatchet says.

"Yeah, there's no way we're ready right now," Ratchet says pushing himself back up. Hatchet just rolls over on her side right next to me. This is starting to get _very_ awkward now. "Liv, do you wanna have kids right away?" he asks surprised.

"Maybe, possibly…._I don't know_. JUST FORGET ABOUT IT, OK!"

"Would you two shut the hell up? We're trying to sleep!" Tiller's voice booms out of the darkness.

"_Excuse me?_" Hatchet says sitting up angrily.

"Yeah, Sergeant," Doc says joining in. "When you're giving us orders, you're the platoon sergeant, but when you're talking about babies and stuff with Ratch, you're our buddy's wife."

"Fine! You want orders?" Hatchet snaps back angrily. "_Go to fuc…. sleep!_"

"_Uh oh_," I think to myself.

"Sergeant Hightower," Hatchet shouts at Ratchet. "Go over with the other sergeants and go to fuc…. sleep!" she screams. Ratchet picks himself up with his tail between his legs and crosses over to Tiller and Doc.

"Hatch," I say trying to calm her down.

"Go to sleep, Sir!" she shouts right in my face like a drill sergeant talking to a basic trainee. Hatchet pushes herself to her feet and grabs a rifle. "I've got first watch," she says crossing to the other end of boxcar. She takes a seat on a stack of cargo containers and stares out one of the slits at the passing countryside. I can see in the bright moonlight that reflects off her pale skin and blonde hair that she's crying. Now, I know I have to get involved as much as I don't want to.

Quietly, I push myself to my feet and slowly walk over to her.

"I thought I told you to go to sleep, Sir," she mutters without even looking at me.

"You know," I whisper back to her. "I could have this whole 'chain of command' thing all backward, but I could have sworn that I'm the one who supposed to give you the orders," I say with a chuckle.

"_Fine…_" she says still obviously angry.

"Alright, Olivia," I say, "what is up with you?" She finally looks at me.

"It's none of your business, Sir."

"It is when it impacts the emotional health of my best NCO when she's in the middle of a combat zone." She wipes her cheeks with her gloved hand.

"I'm beginning to think marrying Ratchet was a mistake," she whispers softly enough so that only the two of us can hear.

"What?" I ask totally surprised. "Do you not love him anymore?"

"Of course I love him, Sir! I love him more than anything I've ever loved before."

"Than what's the problem?" She hesitates. "C'mon, Olivia. I want you to trust me enough as a friend that I won't break your confidence." She hesitates again.

"There's a part of my life that I'm not ready to give up yet. I love being the warrior, you know? The 'go to girl' who can go anywhere and do anything."

"And you're afraid that once you start to settle down, you're gonna lose that?" I ask as I take a seat on the cargo container next to her.

"Yeah," she says looking down at her feet. "Sooner rather than later."

"Do you remember when you were asking me to perform your wedding and you asked if you and Hatchet had ever acted unprofessionally together?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, that professionalism extends beyond just interpersonal behavior, Sergeant. You can be a soldier, a wife, and a mother all at the same time. They're not mutually exclusive."

"Are you sure?" she says nervously.

"Of course I am. After all, Ratchet was actually right this time. I'm a soldier, a husband, and a father."

"Well, technically not a 'soldier,' Sir. I mean you are _an officer_." We both laugh before she leans her head on my shoulder, and I tense up again. Not only is she my platoon sergeant, she's also one of my soldier's wives.

"Hatch…"

"Yes Sir?" she says not moving from my shoulder.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"It's just a friendship thing, Sir," she says as fatigue starts drifting into her voice. "Just let me rest my eyes for a few moments. Then wake me up and I'll go back to watch."

"What about resting your head on Ratchet's shoulder?"

"He's already asleep…" she says with a big yawn. I'm about to protest again when I realize she's out like a light. I sigh in frustration but know she deserves a little sleep. I lean back against the cargo containers and stare out at the night again. Suddenly, I'm aware of how exhausted I really am as well. I fight as my eyelids grow heavier and heavier but the rhythmic rocking of the train as it flies down the tracks finally causes me to drift off.

"_Ahem_," I hear as someone loudly clears their throat in front of me. I slowly open my eyes as I realize that the bright morning sun is shining right in them. When my vision finally clears, I realize that Doc, Tiller, and a very perturbed Ratchet are staring right at me. I wonder why until I also realize that Hatchet is still asleep with her head on my shoulder. As the shock and embarrassment hit, I jostle her awake and she opens her eyes as well. We both fly apart and jump to our feet.

"Babe, it isn't what it looks like," Hatchet says humiliated.

"_It better not be_," Ratchet says.

"No, Sergeant. I swear," I say next. "Hatch was just using me as a pillow." It's then I feel that my entire shoulder is wet. "And she drooled all over me! _Dammit, Hatch!_" I say trying to wipe the saliva from my armor.

"A pillow?" Ratchet says surprised. "Liv, if you needed a pillow, there's one right here!" He says pointing to his own shoulder angrily.

"Yeah," Tiller says, "but that pillow is incredibly handsome and makes far more money than you do, Bro."

"What do you mean?" I shout at him angrily.

"He's right, Sir," Doc says sarcastically. "There's no way around it. You're a beautiful man."

"Can we stop talking about how beautiful I am right now?" I yell. Tiller and Doc start laughing uncontrollably while Hatchet and I turn bright red. Ratchet punches Tiller as hard as he can in the arm, but the TEC armor seems to do a good job of protecting him.

"Clint," Hatchet says walking over to him. "I'm sorry about this, and I'm even more sorry about last night. I don't know what got into me. Nerves I guess." She immediately leans her head on his shoulder. "You'll always be my favorite pillow." A smile creeps across Ratchet's face and he rubs his hand across her back.

"It's alright, Liv. I love you."

"I love you, too." She replies. I still am bright red and don't know how to apologize. Luckily, Ratchet is kind enough to do it for me.

"And it's alright, Sir," he says looking at me. "I know you didn't mean anything." I feel an immense relief as I realize that Ratchet is going to be the bigger man and not jump to conclusions.

'I appreciate that, Sergeant," I say.

"Alright," Tiller says interjecting himself into the conversation again. "Now that we've got all the touchy feely crap out of the way, can we please figure out exactly where the hell we are?"

"Well," I say, "we can figure it out." I pull a map out of my armor. "If we left Village 24602 around 2000 last night, and it's now 0623," I say checking the time on the communicuff in my pocket. "Assuming a constant speed of approximately 70 miles per hour..."

"Sir…" Hatchet says to me.

"Just one second, Sergeant," I say holding up my finger. "That's a little over ten hours, so that means a little over 700 miles…."

"Sir!" Hatchet shouts.

"What?" I say looking up at her.

"I think we're in Germania," she says pointing out of the slits in the side of the boxcar. I look to see the massive outline of "The Heart" in the distance surrounded by the monumental architecture of the rest of the Supreme Lawgiver's city.

"_My Lord_," I say to myself. "_Looks like we made it_."


	22. Chapter 22

The train comes to a screeching halt in the Germania depot. We look out through the slits in the boxcar at the glistening skyline of the enemy's capital. The passengers of the train quickly disembark onto the platform and depot workers rapidly start to unload the cargo cars.

"It won't be long before someone opens this door and finds five TEC officers who aren't supposed to be here," Hatchet mutters.

"Then let's make a discreet exit, shall we?" I say placing my helmet back onto my head. Ratchet and Doc open the sliding door on the opposite side of the car from the platform and we slip down onto the tracks. We do our best to move discreetly between the cars to the platform without being noticed. Just as we think we're in the clear, a voice calls out.

"_Hail Grosfrere, Gentlemen_." we turn around to see a TEC depot worker standing behind us. "I'm afraid you'll have to register your weapons over at the security booth before you move into the city. We've been placed on high security alert to do the recent aggression of the UDP imperialist enemies." I freeze, not sure of what to do. There's too many people around for us to try to get away.

_"Hail, Grosfrere, Citizen,"_ I say raising my hands above my head in the TEC salute. The worker gets a suspicious look on his face when he hears my voice. I know he'll say something if we don't take care of him. Somehow, the rest of the team seems to be reading my mind. "Could you show us exactly where the security booth is?" I ask. "I've never been to this depot before."

"Certainly, Sir," he says still with an air of distrust. "_Right this way_." He begins moving towards the end of the platform. Luckily for us, no one else seems to notice the six of us moving away from the crowd. As soon as we've put a little distance between us the train, Hatchet sees her opportunity. She slips around behind the man, and exactly when the time is right, buttstrokes him across the back of his head with her rifle. He collapses into Doc and Tiller's waiting arms and we covertly drag him between two stationary train cars to another empty platform.

"Over here!" I whisper as I open up a cargo container on the platform. There's just enough room inside to fit the man's body. Doc and Tiller hoist the worker up and into the container.

"He's gonna feel like crap when he wakes up."

"I'm afraid we can't allow that," I say sadly. "As soon as he wakes up and raises the alarm, this city will be locked down tighter than the missile vaults in District 13." Though I can't see his face behind his visor, I know Doc is _not _happy. His primary job is to save life, but he knows that sometimes the opposite is required. "_Hatchet…_" I say regretfully.

"He won't feel any pain, Doc," she says walking up to the man's body. In a flash, she wraps her arms around his head and twists violently. There is a sickening crunch as the man's neck snaps. He goes limp instantly and Hatchet and Tiller finish the unpleasant task of cramming the corpse into the cargo container while Ratchet pulls guard. Before they shut the lid, Hatchet reaches down to the man's belt and removes a keycard.

"This could come in handy," she whispers.

"C'mon," I say beckoning the others toward the back fence facing downtown Germania. "It won't be long before he's missed." We sneak among the stationary trains resting on the tracks until we reach the fence. We find a small gate with an electronic lock on it.

"I wonder if this will work," Hatchet says holding up the keycard.

"Either it will open the thing or set off every alarm in this place," Tiller says.

"Only one way to find out," Ratchet says.

"Go for it, Hatch," I say.

"_Here goes nothing…_" she mutters swiping the card across the lock. We all wince, anticipating the worst, but the lock just clicks open harmlessly. In the blink of an eye, we slip through the gate and towards the city.

We begin walking along a large deserted highway that leads from the industrial sector towards "The Heart," but soon realize that this plan is not going to work. A group of five TEC officers walking by themselves on a roadside will raise _a lot_ of suspicion.

"Any one got any ideas?" I ask as we take cover in a grove of ornamental trees in the median. The road stretches straight for miles in both directions but seems completely empty of any kind of traffic. Apparently, Grosfrere likes to build things that make his people think they're free to travel, but doesn't let anyone use them but his army. The glint of sunlight off a windshield catches our attention, and we make out a TEC military truck speeding in the direction of the downtown in the distance. Suddenly, Hatchet throws her rifle to Ratchet.

"_I might have an idea…_" she whispers. She begins to take off her armor.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask totally confused.

"_Just using what my mama gave me_, Sir," she says throwing her helmet aside and letting her long hair down. As the truck gets closer, she strips down to just her underwear.

"Ok, this is _weird_," Tiller mutters. Ratchet is in shock. Hatchet leans over and kisses his lips.

"Just follow my lead, Babe," she says to him. _"Hopefully, these cheesedicks like girls."_ When the truck is only a hundred yards away, she steps out into the highway. Almost instantly, the truck's tires screech, sending up a cloud of white smoke as the vehicle comes to a dead halt right in front of her. Two TEC soldiers in enlisted armor step out of the cab and walk over to Hatchet.

"Excuse me," she says in her best TEC accent. "I've gotten a little lost and was wondering if you two could…_help me_." She leans forward, showing off her chest and biting her lower lip seductively. The two TECs just look at each other like they just won the lottery.

"Of course, sweetheart," one them says walking around behind her.

"We're here to serve our fellow citizens after all," the other says bending forward and flicking a strand of hair out of her face. Ratchet looks like he's about to explode, but I lean over and grab him.

"_I know_, Brother, but she knows what she's doing and probably just saved our lives." The rest of us slip around the back of the truck. Tiller and Doc pull open the canvas cargo cover and verify there's nobody in the bed. I nod to Ratchet and the two of us draw the bayonets from our belts. We inch forward toward the two TECs who are still mesmerized by Hatchet's performance. She fakes a giggle as she sees the two of us rush forward. Ratchet and I grab the TECs around their necks from behind and slip our blades underneath their backplates and into their kidneys. They put up a bit of a struggle, but soon begin to lose consciousness as they bleed out internally.

"That's my wife, assh…" Ratchet spits into the ear of his TEC as the enemy falls limply to the ground. "Baby, I thought we talked about this," he says to Hatchet. "No showing off your stuff to anyone but me anymore."

"_Aw sorry, honey_," she says sarcastically as she begins to remove the armor from the smaller of the two dead TECs. "Guess I just couldn't resist."

"Now what are you doing, Sergeant?" Doc asks as he sees her remove the fallen TECs breastplate.

"Ratch," she says to her husband. "Put on that other one's armor. He's about your size."

"Got another idea?" I ask her.

"Well, I figure a couple of TEC officers are a lot less suspicious if they're being driven around Germania in an official military vehicle by two enlisted grunts."

"I like your logic, Sergeant."

"Sir, get in the back with Doc and Tiller. Ratch, you can drive this thing, right?"

"It's a cargo truck. What do you think I hauled my parts around in when I was a mechanic on the line?"

"Is that a 'yes' then?" she says as she slips the first fallen TECs armor on.

"_Yes_," he says self-consciously.

"Good," she says wrapping her hair back into a tight bun and then slipping on the helmet. She pulls an ID card off of the dead TEC's belt and then helps Ratchet into his suit of armor. She rips off the other TECs ID card and hands it to him. "Don't lose this. I have a feeling we're gonna need it."

After disposing of the enemies' corpses in a nearby drainage culvert, Hatchet and Ratchet climb up into the cab and the rest of us climb into the cargo bed. Doc and Tiller secure the canvas cover closed as I check to see what exactly is in the containers that the TECs were hauling. I open the lid and my eyes grow wide with surprise.

"You guys alright back there?" Hatchet shouts to us.

"Hatch, I'm not sure those two knew what they were hauling…"

"What makes you say that, Sir?" Tiller and Doc look over and fall as dumbstruck as I am.

"Because there's about five-hundred million in TEC hard currency back here…"

"WHAT!" she and Ratchet shout as Tiller, Doc, and I stare down at pallet after pallet of bank notes all bearing Grosfrere's heroic looking portrait.

"Why the hell would two soldiers be driving around with that much money in their truck?" Hatchet yells.

"Probably taken from around the TEC to prevent it from falling into rebel hands. Either way, I don't care," I say back to her. "_But it does give me an idea_."

We speed down the highway toward Germania. We pass checkpoint after checkpoint, but all it takes is a flash of the stolen ID cards and a glance into the bed to see three officers escorting cargo containers marked with the personal seal of the Supreme Lawgiver for us to be waved straight through without a problem.

We pass disgusting monument after disgusting monument, all bearing Grosfrere's sneering face. Statues, murals, fountains…apparently his narcissism knows no limit. I'm just happy that soon, I'll be able to wipe that smug look of superiority off his face by leveling his most precious symbol of power.

Finally, we reach the government district and the "The Heart" itself. The massive marble pyramid is almost blinding as it glistens in the bright afternoon sun. Soon, the end of the day will come, and the legions of government workers loyal to Grosfrere will pour out of these buildings, and that's when my plan will come into play. But before we can make anything happen, we have to find some kind of escape route. We may die on this mission, but I at least want a chance of getting out of this nightmarish place.

We drive through the square in front of Grosfrere's balcony. The portraits of the previous Supreme Lawgivers stare out with silent intimidation. I just wish I could somehow speak to the ghosts of those tyrants past and tell them that their time of domination over this place is finally at an end. We pull around the rear of "The Heart to another smaller square surrounded by white marble office buildings and find what we're looking for. Ratchet parks the truck as Tiller and I stare out through a gap in the canvas cover.

"Right there, Sir," he says pointing to huge pair of sliding doors at the rear of "The Heart." There is a chain link gate with a guard shack that leads down a ramp to a loading dock. In the garage above the dock, we see several hovercrafts bearing the seal of the TEC parked and waiting for officials who need rapid transport around the country.

"You think those things will have enough range to get us back to Britannia?"

"I don't see why not, Sir. They look like they have the fuel capacity."

"Ok, they're our ride home then," I say to Tiller and Doc. "Now, all we have to do is wait for the right moment."

We don't have to wait long. At 1700 hours, Streams of workers begin to flood out of the buildings around "The Heart," turning the empty traffic circle in front of the access gate into a sea of people almost instantaneously. _It's time to go._ I nod to Tiller who kicks open the tailgate and throws open the canvas bed cover. Doc joins me next to the cargo containers.

"Alright, everyone," I shout. "Hold onto something! Floor it, Ratch!" Ratchet revs the engine and slams down the accelerator, sending the truck hurtling at top speed right for the access gate.


	23. Chapter 23

The guards at the gate see the truck coming right at them. They begin to panic and raise their weapons to open fire, but at the last second before impact, I give the command to Ratchet.

"_Now!_" He yanks on the wheel as hard as he can, sending the truck into a left spin at almost a ninety-degree angle. The tires screech as the truck skids straight through the chain link fence. The guards dive out of the way just in time as jagged wire and debris scatters everywhere. At the moment of impact, Doc and I push the open cargo containers of money out of the tailgate. They fly out of the back of the truck and shatter against the pavement, sending a gigantic cloud of cash scattering across the entire area.

Despite, the fact that Grosfrere claims that the Trans-European Commonwealth is a utopia where nobody wants for anything, I know the truth…_and human nature_. The crowd of civilians, who all stood in shock at the sight of the truck rushing toward the gate, see the money half strewn across the ground and half still floating in the air, and surge forward as one mindless mass in a free-for-all to grab as much currency as possible. The gate guards are helpless against the tide of people all pushing and shoving each other in a wild frenzy to pick up the bills. Once I see that our cover is established, we all bail out of the truck and sprint as fast as possible toward the loading dock at the rear of "The Heart."

We reach our objective and look back just long enough to see that the crowd of civilians has still not abated. Men, women, the young, the old, everyone is snatching bank note after bank note and shoving them into every available purse, pocket, and billfold as smiles and laughter glow across their faces.

"You know it's kind of ironic," Doc says as we run through the loading dock toward a door that leads inside the massive building.

"What is that, Doc?" I say as we make our way inside.

"Grosfrere is finally providing for his people just as he said he would…_though I don't think this is quite what he ever intended_." We all manage a final laugh before disappearing into the bowels of the pyramid.

Amelia sent us the schematics of the inside of "The Heart" before we left Britannia. I made sure my team memorized the path toward the central mainframe at the center of the structure knowing that as soon as we entered the building, we would be under surveillance. Simply put, _we don't have any time to spend looking around._

The Mockingjays move silently through the empty white halls. It is extremely disorienting in this place. I guess the Lawgivers designed it so that any attackers that made it as far as we have would become hopelessly lost and be easy targets for the guards. I casually glance up at the ceiling and see row after row of translucent black plastic globes.

"_Security sensors_," I think. No doubt they not only see every move we make, but can also _hear _everything we say as well. That is why I ordered the team to maintain absolute silence inside. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. Hopefully, the security staff monitoring the cameras will only see a group of uniformed soldiers and pay us no mind.

"_Or maybe we'll be really lucky and they'll all have abandoned their posts to go join the dash for the cash outside,_" I let myself think to calm my nerves a little.

After a few minutes of walking down endless generic passageways and rounding several nondescript corners, we come to a pair of large double doors. I know from studying Amelia's holographics, there's a two-story storage bay on the other side that cuts past the main offices. On the other side of the bay, there's a second set of doors that leads to another winding path of hallways. At the end of that maze, _is our target_.

Hatchet asks permission to enter with a look when she reaches the doors. My only response is a subtle nod. She pushes the portals open and we step inside. More cargo containers are stacked neatly in long rows. We sneak through the lines of boxes, trying not to lose any of the momentum we've gained. I look forward across the bay and see the next set of doors on the other side of a large area where there are no cargo containers. A single thought passes through my mind:

_"This is too easy…"_

Perhaps, I jinxed us because just as soon as we enter the open.

"_Click, Click, Click, Click, Click,_" The sound of a hundred rifles cocking echoes off the cement walls of the storage bay. We all freeze in our tracks and slowly look up. The catwalk above us that rings the second story of the bay is a solid wall of TEC soldiers, and every single one of them has a weapon pointed directly at us.

"Um ok…" Tiller mutters.

"So, now what, Sir?" Hatchet whispers.

"_I don't know who you are…._" A familiar voice echoes around the bay, "but you've managed to enter my private city of Germania, stolen my personal property in the form of that currency truck, corrupted my people with unbridled greed and avarice, and then unlawfully entered the most secure building in the entire Trans-European Commonwealth…._my congratulations_ _on your incredible skill._ I shall truly enjoy watching you die." My heart begins to pound in my chest as the TEC soldiers silently part and reveal their leader. For the first time, I find myself face to face with the Man Among Men himself, the Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere.

He doesn't wear the armor that I saw him in during his last broadcast. Instead, he is dressed in a bright white jacket and slacks. Rows of medals jangle across his chest with every tiny movement he makes. He stares down at us from the catwalk with an apathetic disgust, I imagine it is a look very similar to the one a lion would give a mouse before he dispatches it with a swipe of his mighty paw. Little does he know_, this mouse is a lion as well_.

"Please, if you would be so kind, remove those helmets, Gentlemen," Grosfrere continues in his arrogant diatribe. "I do prefer to see the look of terror in an enemy's eyes as he begs for mercy."

I reach up and pull off my helmet, but it is not a look of terror that I send back in his direction.

"You know, you're a lot shorter than I imagined," I say as I drop the helmet to the ground with a clattering thud. Grosfrere looks back at my face with stunned silence as the rest of my team follows my lead and removes their helmets as well. We all stare back at him with angry defiance.

Slowly, a grin creeps across the Supreme Lawgiver's face. Without warning, he throws back his head and laughs with an evil cackle that sends shivers down my spine.

"Fortune smiles on me again!" he shouts as the rest of the TECs continue motionlessly pointing their rifles directly at our heads. "General Ares Snow _himself_ trapped like a rat in a trap. This is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I couldn't have planned this coup de grace better myself."

"What makes you think you're so lucky, Pierre?" I spit back at him defiantly. "Only one of us is going to be breathing when all this is said and done."

"You're absolutely right, General," he says back at me. "Your execution will be broadcast live to the entire civilized world…_after we've extracted all the useful information we can from you and your other assassins, of course_."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"Why yes…_yes it is_," he replies with a sinister grin. "Why don't you make it as easy as you can on yourself and just throw down your weapons now. I tell you what. If you drop to your knees right now, swear your eternal allegiance to the Supreme Lawgiver, and tell me everything you know about Panem and Britannia's defenses, I will even grant you the mercy of a quick and painless death."

I look across to the faces of Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc. All of them say with their eyes what they couldn't express with a million eloquent words. If we're going down_….we're going down together_. I feel the Mockingjay pin underneath my stolen TEC breastplate press into my chest. Katniss' defiant spirit courses through my veins. Here, in the house of my enemy, under the supposedly omnipotent gaze of another dictator, I am faced with the same choice that she made twenty-eight years ago: _beg for mercy or death on my own terms._

I always wondered what she was feeling at the moment that sixteen-year-old girl placed those berries in her mouth. Was it fear, regret…or maybe even anger? Sadly, I will never know for sure, but I hope that it is what I'm feeling at this moment. I have driven seventy-ton death machines into battle, fought against enemies that outnumbered me a hundred to one and survived, and commanded an army of tens of thousands, but I have never felt as truly powerful as I do at this moment. Lizzy and Octavian's faces flash through my mind one final time.

"_Goodbye my loves..._" I think as the fear of losing them lifts from my soul. I can finally die at peace. "You know, Pierre," I say with a smug, satisfied tone. "I was hoping that you'd know me better than that by now."

"What do you mean?" Grosfrere says with a puzzled look.

"_I don't surrender_."

Before the words are even out of mouth, my weapon is flying to my shoulder faster than any of the enemy can comprehend. I point my muzzle in Grosfrere's direction and pull the trigger. A burst of rounds grazes his head, sending him backwards into the wall with a loud

"_ARGHH!_"

He places his hand over the bleeding wound in his scalp and bolts for the door. The sight of their god-like leader wounded like a mere mortal stuns the other TECs just long enough for us to realize that there may be hope still. The five of us rush toward another stack of cargo containers at the far end of the storage bay near the doors that lead further inside the pyramid.

Tragically, one of our enemies is not as fazed as the rest. Just as I reach the cover of the cargo containers, another burst of gunfire echoes off the walls.

"_AHHHHH_" a scream shrieks out directly behind me as we all dive behind the thick metal of the cargo containers. The other TECs open fire as well and thousands of bullets pepper the walls around us covering our huddled position with tiny chucks of concrete and cement dust. I turn around and shout to the others:

"Who's hit?" I look down to the floor and see Hatchet. She cradles Ratchet in her arms. Blood pours from three neat holes cut through his side. Doc is instantly on him, stripping the armor off his chest and examining the wounds. Tiller and I begin shooting back at the TECs to provide him cover while he works.

"You're gonna be ok, Ratch," Doc says as he places a pressure dressing around Ratchet's midsection. It looks a lot worse than it is. If I can slow down this bleeding, a good surgeon will be able to patch you up in no time.

"Bulls…!" he shouts through his pain. "We're in the middle of freakin' Germania, Doc. You think that there's a lot of good surgeons around here?"

"I've got plenty of hepera blood extender, Brother," Doc says still working furiously as Tiller and I continue firing back at the TECs who still haven't forgotten we're here. "It will hold you until we get to Britannia."

"F… that. All I'll do is slow you down. Take the tri-lithium, and get to the mainframe! I'll hold them off for as long as I can before you blow the place. Just get the hell out of here!"

"_No!_" Hatchet screams as tears begin to stream down her face. "I won't leave you here to die alone!"

"Baby," Ratchet says with a loving look in his eyes. "The time I've spent with you has been the happiest of my life. _But you_…you don't need a disgusting idiot like me. Sure, it may hurt for a while, but then you'll find somebody else and you'll be happier than you ever were with a stupid Grease Monkey like me."

"_You're wrong!_" Hatchet says now crying uncontrollably. "I love you, Clint! You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. No one else could ever replace you in my heart, and if I lose you, we'll be alone the rest of our lives."

"What do you mean '_we?_" Ratchet asks confused over the deafening noise of the gunfire.

Hatchet leans over him and smiles.

"_I'm pregnant."_


	24. Chapter 24

"WHAT!" The other four of us shout simultaneously. Tiller and I are so shocked that we briefly forget to keep firing at the TECs and Doc nearly sticks himself with a syringe of hepra mixed with morphling meant for Ratchet.

_"What do you mean you're pregnant?"_ I scream at her turning my gaze back to the enemy.

"Well Sir," Hatchet yells back at me, "When a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"I know what pregnant means, smartass!" I shout back angrily as I shoot a TEC who's exposed himself up on the catwalk. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Hatchet's motion sickness, her incredible appetite, her distraught response to Ratchet's comments about leaving the service to have a family. I just can't believe I was stupid enough not to realize it earlier.

"Are you sure?" Ratchet says to her with a huge smile on his face. It seems Hatchet's news has given him a new reason to hang on to life.

"Yeah," she says nodding her head. "I found out just before we left Britannia." When I hear that last statement, I flash an angry look back at Doc.

"Don't look at me!" he says defensively. "I didn't have a freakin' clue."

"Sergeant," I shout irately at Hatchet again. "Don't you think that might have been something you wanted to mention _before_ we left?"

"Of course, I wasn't going to tell you, Sir," she replies. "Then you wouldn't have let me come on the invasion."

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I WOULDN'T HAVE LET YOU COME!" I scream even louder. "Tiller!"

"Yes Sir," he replies still firing at the TECs wildly.

"Stay here with Doc, Ratchet, and Hatchet. I'll take the tri-lithium and head for the mainframe. Once I've planted the charge, I'll come back and we'll find some way out of this godforsaken hell-hole."

"I'm coming to!" Hatchet shouts as she rips open Ratchet's pack and pulls out the tri-lithium case and her throwing axe.

"Like hell you are!" I say as I spin around and reach for the explosives. Hatchet grabs my collar with an iron grasp and holds her axe in front of my face.

"Do you really want to piss me off even more right now, Sir? I'm the deadliest woman on two continents, my hormones are going freakin' insane, and my husband just got shot!" I flash an angry look at her, but she doesn't budge. "Don't tell me you're gonna do this thing stupid and solo, Sir. You still need someone to watch your back."

"Fine," I say giving in. "Just stay a few feet behind me. Remember, you're fighting for two now!" We take our positions and get ready to run. "Covering fire!" I shout to Tiller who sprays a burst in the direction of the surviving TECs. It gives us just enough time to dash to the doors and burst into the hallway beyond.

Hatchet and I begin slowly making our way toward the central mainframe with our rifles at the ready. There's no point in being stealthy. Now, it's kill or be killed.

"I can't believe you lied to me!" I say to her.

"I never lied, Sir! I just failed to mention something."

"Something pretty damn important!" I say as we get ready to clear a corner. I take high and Hatchet takes low as we spin around the turn and make sure the hallway beyond is clear.

"Why are you so upset, Sir?" Hatchet asks. "I'd thought you'd be happier for me."

"Of course, I'm happy for you," I say as we continue moving forward. "But there's a reason I would have left you back in Britannia in your compromised condition." Suddenly, two TEC soldiers fly around another corner a few feet in front of us and raise their weapons. Hatchet dispatches both of them with two controlled bursts from her rifle.

"Are you sure that I'm compromised, Sir?" she asks with a smug smirk. As we pass over the bodies, Hatchet reaches down and grabs the bandoliers from across their chests.

"Of course _your skills_ aren't compromised, Olivia. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she says sounding a little insulted. We round another corner and are soon face to face with a set of heavy reinforced steel doors. Behind them, is the very center of "The Heart" and our target.

"You're compromised because you're no longer responsible just for your life anymore."

"I've always been responsible for other lives, Sir! Ratchet's, Tiller's, Doc's….not to mention, _yours_."

"Yes, but all of us volunteered to be here, Hatch. That baby inside of you didn't ask to be in a warzone. It's counting on you to keep it safe from harm. Honestly, is the reason you didn't tell Ratchet as soon as you found out is because you were afraid he'd tell you the same thing that I'm tell you now?" I check the door to the mainframe. Is it secured by a heavy lock controlled by an electronic key pad. I immediately rip open the control panel and begin to try to splice the wires to release the mechanism. "Dammit, I wish Ratchet was here," I mutter as I work. "I was never very good at this."

"Maybe," she says quietly responding to my last comment. "But Sir, you have to understand something too."

"And that is?"

"Remember when Ratchet asked you if the mission was worth it, and you said that you hoped your family would understand?"

"Yes," I say softly as I splicing two wires together.

"Well, this baby inside me is family…but so are you, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc! I could never abandon you all right when you needed me the most. I knew back in the rear that I would be far more help here on the front lines fighting side by side with you all than I would ever be to anyone back in Britannia. _Do you understand, Sir?_ Like it or not, you know that I could never be the woman who sits at home with the kids waiting for her Spartan to come home on his shield_._ I have to fight. _It's who I am._"

As much as it kills me to admit it, I know that she's right. All of us owe this woman our lives a dozen times over, and splitting up the team on her account would seem like a disservice to everything she's done. I pull the last two wires out of the control panel and slice off their ends.

"Just promise me you'll be careful in there, Hatch. Not only for your sake, but for Ratchet's as well. Now, he has two loved ones to worry about."

"As long as you promise you'll be as careful as me, Sir." I smile at her as I splice the exposed ends of the wires together and the doors unlock with a loud

_"Click"_

"Ready?" I ask picking up my weapon.

"Always, Sir." She reaches up and grabs the latch. "_After you_."

I bolt inside with Hatchet right on my heels. We raise our weapons, scanning the surroundings. It takes a moment to comprehend the scale of this room. It is a massive hemisphere, large enough to hold an entire squadron of hovercrafts with room to spare. Black curtains of ten-foot tall computer towers arranged like the spokes of a wheel radiate from the center of the room. The focal point glimmers with an eerie white light that bounces off the dull metal of the curved outer walls.

Hatchet and I exchange silent glances. We know that our target rests in the center of this chamber, but we also know that we're definitely not alone in here. Slowly, the two of us move in between the banks of towers, scanning for the enemy we can feel in our guts must be close by. As we near the center, we finally see what is emitting the strange glow. It is a sphere, shimmering brilliantly with pure white light.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Grosfrere's disembodied voice echoes off the metal walls. "It took my predecessors over a century to design and build this processor. As you probably already know, we call the building you're standing in, 'The Heart.' What you probably _don't_ _know_, is that we call this computer mainframe, 'The Soul.' A Supreme Lawgiver can manipulate every aspect of life in the entire Trans-European Commonwealth with this amazing device. In microseconds, I can order troops from Polskia to Iberia, change the food ration allowance for Norwegia, and access every audio and visual sensor in a Grecian village that's buried in the middle of the mountains. Every piece of data, every intelligence report, and every camera feed from the entire nation is all at my fingertips. It would be impossible to run this autocracy without it."

_"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say," _I think to myself.

"We already know all about this place, Pierre," I shout back to him. "How do we think we stopped those missiles?"

"Yes, a rather unfortunate and embarrassing incident for me, but inconsequential in the long run."

"How do you figure that, Pierre?" I say as Hatchet and I continue to maneuver between the claustrophobic banks of equipment. "I'd say you've pretty much lost this war. We've landed on the continent, defeated your army on the battlefield, and _I'm about to kill the Supreme Lawgiver_."

"Such arrogance, General!" Grosfrere says in a taunting tone that reminds me a bit of Ohm. "You're trapped in _my_ fortress, remember?"

"I may be in your fortress, but I'm certainly not trapped."

. "Oh really? Are you sure about that?" The way he says the last part sets me a little on edge. "You see, the reason that I'm here is that I knew you would try to attack 'The Soul,' so I prepared a few little surprises for you."

"Does that mean you're going to come out and fight me like a man, Grosfrere?" I say.

"Why no, General Snow, that's why I have them."

Suddenly, a squad of TEC soldiers appears from behind a bank of computer towers and opens fire. Hatchet dives one way for cover behind a row of equipment and I dive the other. Now, a hail of TEC bullets separates us from each other. We look across into each other's faces, knowing we've come too far to be stopped now. The others are counting on us to get back to them as soon as possible. It's now or never.

"Sir," Hatchet shouts to me as gunfire ricochets around her. "This is it, right?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this is what we've been fighting for since the start of this damned war, right?"

"I suppose so," I shout in reply.

"That why don't we go out with a bang?" She pulls out two hand grenades and tosses one across to me.

"Where the hell did you get these?"

"Off those two dead TECs in the hallway back there. I figured, if the grenade thing worked for us before, why not go for it again?"

"Aren't you worried the shock from the blasts will set off the tri-lithium?"

"I mean do we really have a choice?" she replies.

"Guess not…On three?" I ask.

"One…two…_three_!" We pull the pins and throw the grenades toward the source of the gunfire.

"_BOOM!_" they detonate simultaneously. The sound of crunching metal, smashing plastic, and sizzling wires fills the air as the banks of computer towers topple around the sight of the blasts. Hatchet and I jump from our covered positions and quickly dispatch the remaining disoriented TEC soldiers with bursts from our rifles.

"Anyone else for us to kill, Pierre?" I shout as I continue scanning for him.

"You really do want to be difficult, don't you, General? _Fine_." The silhouette of Grosfrere appears in the bright white of the glowing sphere. I raise my rifle and fire, but he is already gone by the time I pull the trigger. I dash forward after him, completely focused on ending his reign of terror once and for all.

"Sir, WAIT!" Hatchet screams from behind me. I don't listen. I want Grosfrere so bad I can taste it. I reach the end of the banks of computer towers and see him standing directly in front of the sphere surrounded by a halo of white light. But before I can savor my kill…._my luck runs out_.

"_Just one more little surprise for you, General_," Grosfrere says with a smirk as he presses a remote control detonator hidden in his palm. I hear a faint beeping directly beneath my feet. I look down and realize that the floor where I'm standing is ringed with a row of anti-personnel mines. I try to run back towards Hatchet, but it's too late.

_"BOOM!"_ the mines explode, lifting me off my feet and sending me flying through the air. Then, there is only blackness.

I regain consciousness a few seconds later. I'm lying on the ground staring up at the rounded, metallic ceiling. The entire world seems stuck in slow motion. I sense a throbbing pain in my head and I realize that I can't see anything out of my left eye. I roll over onto my stomach and catch a glimpse of Grosfrere, staring at me with sadistic satisfaction. I try crawling towards him, but quickly realize that my body seems hopelessly off-balanced. My arms slip and slide on the metal floor, trying to get traction. When I look down to figure out why, I see that a pool of my blood has soaked the entire ground.

I look up again at Grosfrere just in time to see his look of satisfaction turn to one of terror. Hatchet appears from behind me, sprinting towards him like a predator. He turns to run, but in one incredibly graceful motion, she jumps into the air, twists sideways, and sends her axe flying into his back. As the metal head buries itself in his flesh, he collapses to the ground in a heap. Hatchet is on him immediately. I watch as she rips the weapon out of his back, and dispatches the Supreme Lawgiver with several brutal, merciless hacks to his skull.

I try to push myself up, but feel incredibly weak and dizzy. Suddenly, Hatchet is standing over me. I see her mouth moving, but her words seem faint and far away.

"It's ok, Sir." She says looking into my face. "You're going to be ok, I promise. The throbbing in my head grows worse and suddenly I'm aware of another horrible pain in my left leg. Hatchet starts to pull off her belt. She keeps talking to me very calmly and directly. "Sir, don't look down, ok? Just don't look down."

"Why not?" I try to ask her but the only thing that makes it out of my lips is a few garbled sounds of gibberish. Hatchet reaches down to my thigh and I feel her wrap the belt around it tightly. My head instinctively leans forward and I immediately realize why she didn't want me looking down. Half-way down my thigh, there is only a gaping, bloody stump. My entire left leg is missing. The shock hits and I lose consciousness immediately.

I manage to open my eyes again. I'm lying across Doc's shoulders as he runs down a white hallway. Tiller is next to us, carrying Ratchet who looks awake, but in severe pain. I hear the sound of gunfire echoing around me. Hatchet is screaming something I don't understand. With all the force I can muster, I look over to see her firing her rifle wildly at a group of TECs pursuing us.

Some lucidity briefly returns as I finally make out her words.

"Get to the hangar! She shouts without looking away from the enemy. "Get to the hangar! We've got less than five minutes." I slip into unconsciousness again.

My eyes open once more. I feel a cold breeze whipping all around me, and hear the deafening roar of turbines. The entire world is moving and shaking violently. I look over to my left, see the open side door of a hovercraft, and realize that we're flying above and away from the center of Germania as the outline of "The Heart" grows smaller and smaller in the distance. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light in the dark night sky and I see the pyramid fall in on itself and collapse. My head is still spinning. I know I should be happy, but I cannot remember why. I look up and realize that Doc is kneeling above me, working on the stump where my left leg once was. My left eye is still blind.

"Tiller!" he shouts toward the cockpit. "You've got to fly faster, His vitals are crashing! I'm losing him!" Hatchet is screaming something again. I'm not sure, but it sounds like,

"We're all gonna make it home together." I hear Tiller's voice scream back from the cockpit.

"We're already at max speed! I can't go any faster without flying it apart!"

"FLY IT APART THEN!" Hatchet screams furiously.

"_No…_" I manage to whisper through my blood soaked lips. "Get home safely…" My words cause Doc and Hatchet to lean in close.

I stare at Doc's face and smile.

"Doc, it's ok. Don't worry," I say reaching out a crimson stained hand and patting his leg. "You did all you could." Hatchet kneels next to him with tears in her eyes. "Olivia…"

"Yes Sir," she says to me over the roar of the turbines.

"Thank Tiller for everything…and tell Ratchet he's a lucky man….and you're going to be a great mom…." Suddenly, the world starts spinning.

"Sir!" Hatchet screams at me. "Sir, stay with us!"

"His pressure is dropping," I hear Doc say as my vision disappears into a red blur. "I've got to knock him out." I feel the tiny prick of a needle in my arm, and the world turns black for the last time.


	25. Chapter 25

It feels like I'm floating in a warm pond. I can sense that I'm lying on something soft, with sheets and a blanket pulled over me. Bandages cover the left side of my head and they're pressing hard on my left eye. It hurts, but the pain is manageable. I hear soft breathing hovering above me, and with a gargantuan effort, I open my right eye. I smile as I see the face that's looking down at me.

"Welcome Home, Soldier," Katniss says with a smile. "_You look like shit_."

"You always had a talent for telling like it is," I reply with labored breaths. "Where am I?"

"Capitol Memorial Hospital back in the good ole UD of P."

"_Panem_," I think. "_I'm home_." Then, I remember the circumstances of my homecoming. I try to bolt upright, but Katniss' firm hand holds me down.

"Easy, there, Ares. Take it easy. You're still pretty banged up."

"Where's the rest of the team?" I say a little louder than I should.

"Ah, Lizzy said you might ask about them," Katniss says taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "Don't worry, they made it back to Britannia just fine. They hovercraft you stole got shot to hell trying to get out of TEC airspace, but no one else got injured. The other Mockingjays stayed behind to recover, but your injuries were so severe that they decided to MEDEVAC you back to Panem immediately." It's then I realize that I must have been unconscious for quite some time.

"How long have I been out?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Katniss asks.

"I remember being in the hovercraft," I recall with a lot of effort, "and then 'The Heart' exploded behind us," I pause as I remember looking up at Hatchet and Doc, and the painful expressions on their faces."Then, I said my goodbyes and I was out."

"Ares," Katniss says preparing me for the shock. "That was almost three weeks ago." I collapse back on my pillow, and swallow hard as I brace for more bad news. Someone who's been in the military as long as I have knows that you don't stay unconscious that long if something isn't seriously wrong with you.

"How bad?" I ask firmly.

"Ares, I'm not a doctor…" Katniss says trailing off.

"No, but you're a warrior like me. How bad?"

"You're lucky to be alive, Snow," she says with a lump in her throat. "The surgeons managed to repair most of the cosmetic damage to your face and chest, and they've already attached an artificial leg…"

"But…" I say knowing that she's preparing me for something else.

"They had to remove your left eye. There was nothing left to salvage. Also, the nerves in your legs are so messed up, that you'll probably never walk without a cane again."

"But at least I'll be able to walk…" I say trailing off.

"But at least you'll be able to walk," she says with a reassuring smile.

"I suppose spending the rest of my life as a half-blind cripple isn't as bad as not having a rest of my life," I say managing a chuckle. Katniss' smile grows wider.

"Lizzy would definitely agree with that."

"_Lizzy!_" I think as my one remaining eye darts around the room. "Where is she?" I ask anxiously.

"Checking in on Octavian," Katniss says softly. "She's been by your side night and day, but she didn't want him seeing you until you've healed up a bit more." I nod my head knowing that Lizzy's instincts were right. There was no telling what kind of mental shape I'd be in when I regained consciousness. "That's why she called me. She needed help and knew that you'd probably want to see me. Don't worry, she'll be back soon."

"Peeta and the kids here to?"

"No," Katniss says. "He's still with them back in 12."

"Probably for best," I say with a nod. "Their lives have already been screwed up enough by this war."

"Luckily, it won't be going on much longer," Katniss says with another smile.

"What?" I ask surprised.

"_You destroyed their entire command and control, Snow,_" Katniss says. "The body of their sacred leader is still rotting under thousands of tons of shattered marble. When word got out, the entire TEC army collapsed. Rebels are pushing on Germania from the east and our army is less than a hundred miles away to the west. The TEC's done, Ares. The only reason they haven't surrendered yet is they're not sure anybody left alive in their government has the authority to surrender."

I close my right eye and exhale a relaxing sigh.

"_We won," _I think as I'm finally able to truly relax for the first time in almost two years. "I'm really glad you're here," I say looking at her again.

"_I know._ That's why I came, I knew you'd need me," she says a bit bashfully. I'm not sure if it's the morphling coursing through my bloodstream or if it really is the time to say to her what comes out of my mouth next.

"_I love you, Katniss._"

"Ares," she says as her face turns bright red. "Lizzy told me how you really feel about me, but you have to understand, I barely have enough maternal instinct to take care of two kids. I don't know if I can take care of a third…"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, _Girl on Fire_. You've taken care of me all your life." Katniss turns an even brighter shade of red.

"I haven't been the 'Girl on Fire,' for a very long time. You know that."

"Maybe not," I say grinning. "But you passed the flame on to me."

"And you carried it around the globe," she says as she softly places her hand on my head. Then, she reaches over to the table next to my hospital bed and picks something up. She holds it in front of my face. "Did it bring you the same amount of luck as it brought me?" My eye focuses on the object glittering in the white, florescent light. It is the Mockingjay pin.

"Right until the part I got blown to hell…" I reply. We both laugh. Then, she reaches down and pins it to my hospital gown.

"I think it's happy with its new home," she says with a smile.

"You sure? I thought Mockingjays liked warm, sunny weather?"

"What do you mean?" Katniss asks confused.

"Well, what I mean is, I thought they hated, _'The Snow?_" I chuckle but Katniss just shakes her head. Her trademark braid bobs behind her back.

"Glad to see your sense your humor is still the same," she mutters. "Seriously, that was absolutely a horrible pun." We both laugh again, but then I look over to the doorway. A figure is standing there, holding her hands over her face as she cries with relief and joy.

"Hey there, Beautiful," I say softly as I recognize the only woman in the world I love more than Katniss Everdeen Mellark. Lizzy just bolts over to my hospital bed and wraps her arms me. She squeezes so tight that a wave of pain courses through my wrecked body. "I love you too, but…._ow_." I say with a labored chuckle.

"I'm sorry!" Lizzy says immediately letting go.

"It's fine, it's fine," I say looking into her gorgeous eyes for the first time since we were separated. "But what I really was looking forward to was a kiss." Lizzy dives forward and our lips meet. The brilliant smell of the sea fills my nostrils again. I swear at that moment that it will never leave them again.


	26. Chapter 26

Lizzy helps me get dressed in my uniform. The television in the hospital room is turned to live news coverage of a monumental event that everyone in the country is glued to…except for the two of us. Despite, it's significance, I pay it little attention. Something far more important is about to happen.

"There we go," Lizzy says fitting a black patch over my left eye. "I think it will grow on me."

"Do you think it will scare him?" I ask nervously.

"He'll have to get used to it either way," Lizzy says softly. "Besides, it makes you like a pirate. _He likes pirates_," she says as we both enjoy a laugh. I lean on the bed for support as I wobble over to pick up my new cane.

"I could have used a little more time to practice with this," I say leaning on the black piece of wood as I take a few labored steps around the room. Lizzy walks over and pins the Mockingjay over my nametag.

"They'll be plenty of time for that, I'm afraid. But you're still the same man I married and the same father to him." She pulls out a handkerchief and polishes the golden Mockingjay to a bright shine. "As long as you remember that, we'll all be fine."

The news begins to pick up as three o'clock in the afternoon strikes in Germania. Our attention briefly turns to the screen as President Holmes and Angus walk down a red carpet towards a table that has been set up in front of the remains of "The Heart." Five TEC officials and high-ranking military officers in their shiny dress armor watch the approach of the victorious entourage with a mix of humiliation and dread. Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and Seamus the Highlander march proudly behind the leaders of their nations as thousands of allied soldiers stand proudly at attention in the same square that once hosted Grosfrere's propaganda parades.

"Do you wish you were there?" Lizzy whispers in my ear as I gaze at the screen. I look back and stare into her gorgeous green eyes. "There's nowhere on the planet I'd rather be than right here, right now," I say softly. "But I'd probably be less nervous if I were there…" I say trailing off.

"You'll be fine," as she kisses my cheek reassuringly.

President Holmes and Angus approach the table. Two TEC soldiers appear carrying a huge sheet of parchment bound in leather. They place it on the table in front of the TEC officials and hand the head of the defeated delegation a pen. He looks up to the unyielding glares of Driva and Angus one more time, before he sighs and signs his name to the parchment. One by one, the other TEC officials and officers do the same. Finally, Angus and Driva march around behind the table and sign their names with a broad flourish.

Silently, Driva walks around to a podium set up next to the table, pulls the microphone close to her mouth, and sends her voice echoing around the entire planet.

"The war between the Trans-European Commonwealth and the allied powers of Britannia and the United Districts of Panem is over!" An incredible cheer erupts from the soldiers around them. I hear that cheer echoed in the streets of the Capitol outside my hospital window. Our world is finally at peace.

President Holmes continues her speech, but I barely listen to her plan about how the Trans-European Commonwealth will be dissolved and an interim government will be established under Brigadier LaSalle until a permanent, democratic government can be established by the various resistance groups.

_"Another kid from District 6 ruling an entire continent. Not bad, LaSalle,"_ I think with a smile. I know that Driva didn't recommend him solely on the fact that she and him grew up in the same place, but knowing her, it probably didn't hurt.

Angus speaks next about how Britannia's days of isolation and hardship are over and that the little island will finally be able to rejoin the other European nations in peace and harmony. No disrespect, to my old friend, but I don't even listen to the end of his speech because Finnick appears in the doorway of my room.

"He's ready," Finnick says stepping inside. He walks over as Lizzy helps me get to my feet.

"Finnick," I say turning my good eye towards him. "I haven't gotten the chance to thank you for everything you've done for us."

"No, brother," he says reaching out his hand to mine. "Thank you."

The three of us slowly make our way to the elevator. As the door closes, Finnick presses the button for the rooftop garden. The following seconds are some of the longest of my life.

The door opens and the brilliant morning sun shimmers off the flowers and plants of the garden. I slowly walk out onto the grass, leaning heavily on my cane. Lizzy and Finnick step out behind me, but stay back and hold their breaths.

I look out and see the small boy playing with a teddy bear who was just a baby when I last held him. His back is to me, and he pretends not to notice my presence. I take a few more steps toward him, and with a tremendous effort I kneel down behind my son.

"Hello, Octavian," I say softly as he keeps ignoring me and playing with his bear. "I'm sorry I've been away so long, but I'm back for good now. The bad guys are gone." He still ignores me. I start to get very nervous. If he refuses to talk, I don't know what I'll do.

Finally, he speaks and I hear his voice for the first time in person.

"You promised you wouldn't get hurt," Octavian says without turning around.

"I know I promised," I reply softly, "but Daddy made a big mistake and he's really sorry. I know you're probably not up for another promise, Little Man, but this time, I mean it. _I promise I won't leave you and Mommy again_."

Suddenly, he turns around and looks right into me with his sea-green eyes.

"Do you really mean it?" he says with resolve beyond his years as he clutches his bear to his chest.

"Yes, I do," I say with the same integrity as when I made my oath to Panem all those years ago and my vows to Lizzy after that.

"Then, I forgive you," he says running up to me and throwing his little arms around my neck. "I love you, Daddy." I instantly choke up and tears begin to stream from my only eye.

"I love you too, Little Man."

Three days later, Amelia, Lizzy, Katniss, Octavian, and I stand in the hangar at the new Ministry of Defense. Octavian is in little boy heaven as he runs around the rows military equipment.

"Octavian, be careful!" Lizzy shouts to him as he checks out the landing gear of an attack hovercraft. "I swear he gets into everything these days," she mutters.

"They usually do at that age," Katniss says.

"He'll be fine," I say to Lizzy. "Don't worry, I'll keep…_an eye_…on him!" Lizzy, Katniss, and Amelia just look at me and shake their heads. "What?" I say shrugging my shoulders. "Tell me that wasn't funny?"

"_That wasn't funny_," the three of them say simultaneously.

"Don't worry, I'll watch him," Katniss says walking over to Octavian. Amelia looks over to me with a smile.

"It's good to have you back, Sir," she says bashfully. I reach an arm over her shoulder and pull her close to me.

"It's good to be back, Amelia." Lizzy just smiles understandingly.

"I cannot believe that President Holmes didn't invite you to be part of the delegation," I say letting Amelia go.

"She did, actually," Amelia says. "But I told her that someone had to stay behind and run things while she and her Chief of the Defense Forces enjoyed themselves," she says with a smirk.

I look over and see that Katniss is still distracted by Octavian.

"What about Mr. Hawthorne, our esteemed Chief of Special Defense?" I ask curiously. "I haven't seen him around in a while.

"He resigned and went back to District 2 just after the invasion, Sir. Refused to tell anyone why. When President Holmes demanded an answer, he just said, 'he didn't belong here anymore and it was a different world.' Any idea what he meant by that?" I look over to Katniss as she plays with my son, laughing and joking around with the toddler like all the ghosts and demons of past battles never existed.

"No_, but I can guess…_" I say trailing off. Suddenly, alarms ring out through the hangar and the large landing doors start to slide open. Katniss picks up Octavian and carries him over to us. Octavian covers his little ears as a transport hovercraft bearing the Presidential Seal flies inside and touches down a few yards in front of us. I walk forward with my cane as the pilot cuts the engines and lowers the ramp.

President Holmes walks out first. As she nears me, I snap to the sharpest position of attention I can hold and offer her a salute.

"Welcome Home, Madam President," I say with a grin.

"I suppose I can say the same to you, General Snow. Relax, Man. You're wounded for Heaven's sake" she says as she sees Lizzy, Octavian, and Katniss. "How are you feeling, Ares?" she says concerned.

"With them, I'm getting stronger every day, Ma'am," I say with a smile.

"I'm sure that's true," she replies smiling back. "Chief McFadden sends his best to you and wishes for a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll call him tonight to let him know he doesn't have to drink alone." My thoughts turn to him and Maggie. Hopefully, she hasn't neglected her promise to him now that the war is over.

"How are you doing, Lizzy?" Driva asks as she walks up to my wife and gives her a warm embrace.

"Just fine, Ma'am," Lizzy says hugging her back.

"_Please_, your husband has to call me that, but when you say it, it just makes me feel old. Call me, 'Driva." Her attention then turns to Katniss. "Mrs. Mellark, so good to see you again."

"President Holmes," Katniss says with a polite nod. I can still see she hasn't developed a trust for politicians, and I can't really blame her.

"And look at this little gentlemen," Driva says reaching out and grabbing Octavian's little hand. "He's getting so big," she says turning back to me and Lizzy.

"I know," I say gently. "Time flies…"

President Holmes then goes to Amelia and the two of them greet each other warmly. However, I'm distracted by the voices now coming down the ramp. I admit, they're probably the real reason I'm here.

"Hello Panem!" Tiller shouts as he runs down the ramp and throws his duffel bag to the ground. He drops to all fours and kisses the floor.

"That's disgusting," Doc says walking down the ramp just after him. "Do you know how many germs are probably on that?"

"Yeah, brother, but they're _Panem germs_."

"Well, look at these guys…" I say limping up to them with my cane.

"Sir!" Tiller shouts as he jumps to his feet again. He runs over and shakes my hand. "That's badass, by the way," he says pointing to my eye patch.

"I definitely think it adds some flair to my image," I reply sarcastically.

"How are you doing, Sir?" Doc says gently.

"Real good, Doc. Yourself?"

"Fine Sir….I'm just sorry that I couldn't do more for you," he says with a lot of guilt.

"What are you talking about?" I say with a smile. "If it weren't for you, I'd be lying right next to Grosfrere's cold corpse." This reassures him, and he finally smiles.

"It's good to see you back to your old self, Sir." Suddenly, he gets a look in his eyes that surprises me because I've never seen him with it before: _affection_. I look over my shoulder and realize he's staring right at Amelia as she talks with President Holmes.

"_Well, would you look at that_," I think to myself. "_Things might work out better than I'd hoped…_"

"It's a good thing you're only in this chair another week, or else I might put you in it permanently!" I hear another set of voices coming down the hovercraft ramp.

"Yeah babe, it's been a real treat for me too…"

"You better get on your feet real quick, Grease Monkey. I'm not taking care of two babies."

"They've been going at it since we left Britannia," Tiller says turning back to me.

"It's how we know they're still in love," Doc adds. As I see Hatchet emerge from the hovercraft pushing a less than thrilled Ratchet in a wheelchair, I look back to the others. I grin from ear to ear as I think:

_"My entire family is finally back together again…"_

"Sir!" Hatchet screams as she sees me. She lets Ratchet go and dives straight at my body. I gasp as she throws her arms around me and hugs hard. I look down to see that her uniform shirt bulges a little bit as her stomach is starting to show.

"Hey, Hatch," I say as I squeeze back. Ratchet wheels himself over to the rest of us.

"Sir," he says with a salute. "It's good to see again. Can't believe that you're back on your feet before I am, but the medics we had over there apparently aren't as good as the ones back here," he says flashing Doc a mocking fake scowl.

"Don't blame me," Doc says with a slap to Ratchet's shoulder. "Blame the guy who shot you." I take the four of them over to Lizzy, Octavian, and Katniss and make the warm introductions. Just as Lizzy hands Octavian over to Hatchet to let her know what she's about to get into, I see Hatchet's eyes grow wide.

"_What are they doing here?_" she demands as she stares at the entrance to the hangar. I look over and see Johanna Mason and Thom walking towards us.

"I asked them to come," I say firmly. "I think they have a right to welcome their daughter home from war…and I think there's some things you need to talk to them about," I say looking first to Ratchet and then to her pregnant belly.

"President Holmes," Johanna says flatly with a respectful nod as she joins the party. Obviously, a distrust of politicians is not unique among survivors of the Hunger Games. She then turns her attention to her fellow Victor. "Katniss," she says with the closest thing to a warm smile I think Johanna Mason can muster.

"Hello, Johanna," Katniss says. Hatchet hands Octavian back over to her and she expertly balances him on her hip. Somehow, I think the sight of the child calms Johanna down, even if he is a Snow.

"Is Peeta here or back in 12?" Johanna asks.

"He's in 12 with Prim and Haymitch," Katniss says trying to sound warm but still a bit defensively.

"You know, we really need to get together more than once every thirty years," Johanna says with a giggle. "There's only three of us left and I need someone else to reminisce with besides Thom here. Between you and me, he's not much of a conversationalist," she says playfully as she leans over and covers her mouth with her palm like she's telling a secret. Johanna keeps smiling at Katniss who immediately begins to let her defenses down. She can tell this is a genuine olive branch and knows she should accept it.

"I'd think we'd really like that."

"Good," Johanna says. "I even promise to keep my clothes on in front of Peeta…_though it's not easy with him._" Hatchet buries her head in her hands and Katniss blushes, but not surprisingly, Thom stays stoically still. I guess he's used to this from his wife.

Then, Johanna walks right over to me. She leans over and whispers just loudly enough for her daughter to hear.

"When I talked to you at the train station, I didn't think you'd be able to do it, but thank you for bringing her home safely to us," she says glancing over to Hatchet. I smile back at her.

"She did most of the work…but you're welcome all the same." I whisper back. I look over to Hatchet with nod. Suddenly, she seems to remember just how much her parents really do care for her.

"As I remember it," Johanna says walking toward her daughter. "You weren't very happy when I forced you to learn how to use this," she says reaching down and grabbing Hatchet's axe from her belt. Johanna begins effortlessly spinning it around her finger.

"It came in handy over there," Hatchet says as the beginning of a smile starts to creep across her lips.

"I bet it did," Johanna says to her. Both of them are obviously happy right now, but neither of them wants to be the first to admit it.

"Are you gonna teach this one too?" Hatchet says rubbing her belly.

"I was hoping we'd teach that kid together, Livy." A tear runs down Johanna's cheek.

"Mom!" Hatchet can't take it anymore and throws her arms around Johanna's neck. "Hi, Daddy," Hatchet says hugging Thom next. As Hatchet introduces her mom and dad to her husband, I walk back towards Amelia, Lizzy, and Katniss.

"Glad, that worked out so well," Amelia says as she sees Ratchet shake his father-in-law's hand.

"Thanks for getting in contact with them for me," I say to Amelia.

"Like I've said a million times before, Sir, _it's my job_." I grin a bit as I finally realize that I'm about to pay Amelia back a little for the countless wonderful things she's done for me.

"Doc!" I shout. He immediately runs over. I look at Amelia's eyes, hoping beyond hope that I see the same look in hers that I saw in his. Thankfully, I see the hint of a spark as she finally looks him over.

_"It's perfect," _I think as I introduce the two of them. _"Both of them make a living out of helping people. Maybe, they can help each other now."_

"Major Flagg," I say to Amelia who still hasn't taken her eyes off of Doc. "I can't believe I haven't told you yet about how Sergeant Goldflower here saved my life…"


	27. Chapter 27

The six of us stand at attention on a platform at the front of the ballroom of the Presidential Mansion. Our dress uniforms are pressed, clean, and polished, but Hatchet hasn't stopped complaining about how a tailor had to let hers out to make room for her expanding belly.

"I refuse to get fat, Sir," she said to me this morning before the ceremony. _"I'm not a tanker."_

I look out of the corner of my eye to the audience and see Lizzy and Katniss in the front row of chairs. Lizzy balances a quiet Octavian in her lap as she whispers something in Katniss' ear. I told my adopted mother that she shouldn't feel obligated to stay with us anymore, but she refused to leave until this ceremony was over.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Katniss said to me with a smile.

Johanna and Thom are still here as well. They sit a few chairs down from my family in support of their daughter and son-in-law. It is not often that awards like this are bestowed by the President herself.

Driva takes her place in front of us as the ceremony begins.

"Adjutant," she says to an officer standing off to the side of the formation. "Post the orders."

"_Attention to Orders!"_ the officer begins reading from a document in a booming voice.

_This is to certify, that the President of the United Districts of Panem has awarded the 'Cross of Valor,' Panem's highest award for Bravery to the following individuals._

_Their actions, done at the risk of their own lives on countless occasions, during the War of the Trans-European Commonwealth, greatly diminished the ability of Trans-European Commonwealth Forces to wage a campaign of aggression against both UDP and allied soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines and brought a much quicker end to the conflict, saving untold thousands of lives in the process._

President Holmes walks up to me first. An officer stands just behind her with a tray of medals. She grabs one and prepares to hang it around my neck.

"_General Ares Snow_," the adjutant continues to read.

"Congratulations," Driva says placing the medal over my head. I salute proudly.

"Thank you, Madam President."

"No, thank you," she says saluting back.

"_Sergeant First Class Olivia Hightower_." President Holmes drapes a medal around Hatchet's neck. They both chuckle as the medal comes to rest on her belly.

"_Staff Sergeant Clinton Hightower_." Ratchet proudly stands on his own two feet as he is presented his award.

"I'm happy to finally be taller than Olivia again," he joked at the dinner we all had last night at my new home just outside the Capitol.

"_Staff Sergeant Henry Goldflower_." I was very encouraged last night. Doc and Amelia arrived separately, _but left together_.

"_Staff Sergeant Julius Osprey_." Tiller couldn't stop talking about the new assignment he volunteered for next. He's been assigned to be head instructor at a new training school for pilots being established in the desert between District 1 and District 2.

"I'll be training pilots not only from Panem, but also from Britannia!" he exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink on our new carpet. "There even talking about bringing in some pilots from the old TEC now that we're rebuilding their air force."

Finally, there's only one award left to present, but unlike us, she gets her own set of orders.

"Adjutant," President Holmes says when she gets to Amelia.

_Attention to Orders! This is to certify, that the President of the United Districts of Panem has awarded the 'Cross of Valor,' Panem's highest award for Bravery to the following individual: Major Amelia Flagg_

_During the missile attack on the United Districts of Panem, then Captain Flagg had the opportunity to retreat to shelter to preserve her own safety, but at the risk of her own life, then Captain Flagg stayed at her post to coordinate the evacuation effort of civilians across the entire nation. Her quick thinking, fantastic skill, and incredible dedication to duty prevented the impact of the missiles on Panem soil and saved the lives of millions of innocent people. Her actions are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great honor upon her, the Defense Forces, and the Entire United Districts of Panem. _

President Holmes reaches for the final medal and proudly hangs it around Amelia's neck. Amelia salutes Driva, who gratefully returns it back. President Holmes then leans close to Amelia and whispers in her ear:

"They saved the country, but you saved our lives. For that, we can never repay you." Amelia then whispers something back to President Holmes that makes me almost burst out laughing in the middle of the ceremony.

"Madame President, _It's my job_."

The ceremony concludes and we begin to mill about on the platform as the audience comes up to wish us congratulations. I stand, gazing around silently until Hatchet walks up to me.

"Sir," she says gently. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course, Hatch," I reply.

"I overheard my mother talking to you yesterday. I just wanted to know what she meant by '_when I talked to you at the train station?_"

"Well, when I was saying goodbye to Katniss, Peeta, and the kids before we went to Britannia, I ran into Johanna and she and I….well, really _she_ exchanged some words."

"And they were?"

"Remember how President Holmes asked you to keep me safe over there?"

"Yes…" Hatchet says a little suspiciously.

"Let's just say that we both had a job to do over there." I think that Hatchet might get angry for a second, but then her annoyed look turns to a grin.

"I guess I owe you some thanks than to," she says reluctantly.

"Nonsense," I say flashing a grin back to her. "I think we can call it even."

Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc stride up to us and we immediately change the subject.

"So," I say to the Mockingjay team one last time before we scatter to the four winds. "We know what Tiller's plans are, but what about the rest of us? Hatch?" I ask curiously.

"Well, the short term goal is to spit this kid out alright."

"And then back to the wilds of District 7?" I ask curiously.

"Hardly," she says flashing me an indignant grin. "I'm too far in to this military thing to quit now. I want to make Sergeant Major by the time I'm thirty!"

"Not her," Ratchet says putting an arm around Hatchet who doesn't try in the least to push him away, "I'm the one that's getting out. I think the 'stay-at-home dad' thing is just want I want to be doing right now."

"Good for you, Brother," I say giving him a playful tap on his shoulder.

"Though, you're gonna have to learn how to cook," Hatchet says giving him a look.

"What are you talking about?" Ratchet says back to her. "You can't cook either!"

"_Exactly_," Hatchet says before we all share a laugh.

"What about you, Doc?" I ask next.

"Getting out too," he says with a grin.

"Really?" I say a little disappointed. "Going back to 12?"

"That depends…" he says trailing off.

"On what?" I ask curiously.

"On where she ends up getting stationed," He says pointing over to Amelia who's talking with Lizzy and Katniss when she notices Doc pointing at her. She just looks back to him with a coy grin. "I really think we have a chance together, Sir," Doc says hopefully.

Even though I literally want to jump for joy, I hold back all my emotion to a simple phrase, "Lord knows you deserve each other, Doc. _Congratulations_."

"What about you, Sir?" Tiller asks. "What's next for General Ares Snow?" President Holmes walks up to us and gives us her congratulations next. Finally, I get the chance to talk to her face to face about my decision.

"So, Madame President," I say with my usual flippant attitude. "It's an election year after all. Don't think you'll have any problems winning votes with how all this turned out."

"_Not on your life, Snow_," Driva replies back to me shaking her head. "This is it. I am retiring to spend my golden years in peace and quiet." Suddenly, she leans in close to my ear. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that," she says putting an arm around me. "The legislators and I were talking and we think that you should consider throwing your name in for the Presidency. Your record of service clearly stands for itself and the people of Panem definitely recognize you as a valued and experienced public servant…"

"Madame President," I say respectfully pulling her hand away from me. "I made a solemn promise to my son yesterday that I would never be away from him and Lizzy again…_and I fully intend to keep it_. I think it's time for me to focus on being a husband and a father."

"What do you mean by that, Ares?" Driva asks nervously.

"Madame President, it is with the utmost respect and gratitude that I hereby resign my commission as an officer in the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces and announce my retirement." President Holmes and the others all looked shocked. "It's time for me to finally stop being 'Colonel Snow' or 'General Snow' or even 'President Snow' and just be '_Ares_."

President Holmes just looks at me for a few seconds before finally flashing me a soft smile.

"Well, I'd like to argue with you, but I know you've earned it, old friend. Take care of yourself," she says wrapping her arms around me for the first time.

"You too," I say back to her before she lets go and moves on to the other dignitaries in attendance.

"So, we're going out drinking together one last time, right?" Tiller says to the Mockingjays.

"Afraid not, Brother," I say shaking my head. "I promised a little boy that I would play 'pirates' with him and his teddy bear tonight." The other Mockingjays laugh approvingly as I walk over to join the rest of my family.


	28. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Forty years pass in the blink of an eye. Soon after the retirement ceremony, Lizzy became pregnant with our second child. We both agreed that we didn't want to raise a family in the Capitol and moved back to the Odair family cottage in District 4 with Octavian and our new baby girl, Katniss. The years spent with my wife and children among the sand dunes and waves were by far the best of my life, but every day when I woke up and looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but be confronted with the ghosts of my past.

The nightmares changed, instead of Ohm's muttations and clouds of Shiver, they morphed into battlefields and explosions. I cannot tell you how many times I would bolt awake in the night screaming, covered in sweat and still feeling that I was in Grosfrere's sadistic presence. However, Lizzy's soft embrace and the beautiful faces of my children as they grew from innocent babes to adults wise beyond their years always reminded me that the sacrifices I made for them were completely worth the price.

Now, as the day that the news service has been talking about for months finally arrives, I find myself sitting at the end of a long wooden dock, holding a fishing pole in my hands and casting my line out into the waves.

"You're never gonna catch anything like that," Octavian would tell me over and over again as he grew up, but I found that being out in a boat with him was just too physically painful with my injuries. However, in his mature compassion, he would often put aside his own personal fishing trips to spend hours just talking with me as we stared out into the water together.

Now, as I find myself in this quiet place and he is far away shouldering his own new set of responsibilities, I cannot help but smile as I comprehend that the father has become the son, and the son the father.

"Ares!" Lizzy shouts from the porch of the cottage. "_It's time_." I quickly reel in my line, pick up my cane, and limp back towards the house. As I make my way up the steps to the front door, Lizzy holds out her arm to help me.

"Forty years, Liz, and have I ever taken that arm for help yet?" I say as I place my rod and reel next to the door and make my way over to my chair in front of the television.

"No," she says with a smile as she takes her seat next to mine, "but I'll keep trying to help you until the day I die…_or you die first_. I haven't decided yet which option I prefer," we both laugh before Lizzy turns up the volume on the television.

It is a live broadcast from the front of the Legislative Building the Capitol. On this Inauguration Day, the newscasters excitedly repeat the story of the closest election in Panem's history as they've done a million times since the ballots were tallied. A fisherman from District 4, the great-grandson of a President and the son of a war hero, who put aside all the power and benefits of his birth to become a working man, then decided to run for office when Panem began travelling down a path he didn't agree with. News anchors love human-interest stories like that.

"I really think we should have gone, Ares_…for him_."

"No, no," I say back to her. "The last thing I want is for some old worn out cripple to take any attention away from him and his accomplishments. Besides, Hatchet and Ratchet will be there and they promised they would look after him for us."

"I'd hope they'd be there considering Aurora is about to become first lady."

Our daughter-in-law, Aurora Snow, _formerly Aurora Hightower_, was the sixth surprise member of the Mockingjay team during our time in the TEC. Lizzy and I often took Octavian and little Katniss to visit Hatchet and Ratchet's new posting in District 2 as the kids grew up. Octavian and Aurora became best friends during their childhood, but by the time they were teenagers, had become much more.

The news cameras focus on the balcony of the Presidential Mansion as the official party makes their way outside. First, is the Chief Justice of the UDP Supreme Court, followed by Octavian, Aurora, our daughter Katniss and her husband Haymitch Mellark. Prim follows close behind with her husband as well. Then, the entire clan of Lizzy's and my grandchildren, twelve in all, spills out and takes their seats. Octavian insisted that not only his biological sister be present at the inauguration, but all his adopted siblings as well. When we lost Peeta, and then big Katniss a little over ten years ago, we made a promise that we would look after Prim and Haymitch like they were our own, and Lizzy and I have never faltered in that oath.

Finally, the Chief Justice takes his position. Octavian stands across from him and Aurora holds up a bound copy of the UDP Constitution.

"Mr. Snow," the Chief Justice says, "Are you prepared to take the oath?"

"I am," Octavian says with his shoulders cocked back.

"Then raise your right hand and repeat after me: _I, Octavian Snow…"_

"I, Octavian Snow…"

_"Do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem…"_

"Do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem…"

I watch in utter amazement as the little boy who clutched the teddy bear to his chest as I made a promise to him so many years ago becomes the most powerful leader in the land.

"_As fate as my Judge,"_ the Chief Justice says completing the oath.

"As fate as my Judge."

"Congratulations, Mr. President," the Chief Justice says with a smile as he shakes Octavian's hand. Aurora then leans over and Octavian plants a big kiss right on her lips. I look to the rear of the crowd on the balcony and make out Hatchet and Ratchet's smiling faces. Both of them have tears of joy in their eyes. Finally, Octavian approaches a podium and prepares to address his people for the first time as their new president.

He takes his place behind the microphone and looks out at the cheering crowd. The Mockingjay pin beams from the left lapel of his suit in the bright, Capitol sunlight. Then, Octavian begins his speech:

"It was not as easy decision for me to run for President of this Great Nation," he says with a solemn face, "Many people agreed, that a person with my last name should never hold this sacred office again. They said that it would hearken back to the Dark Days before the Revolution, and for a long time, I actually believed them. Then, as I saw that apathy, ignorance, and despair creeping back into the fabric of Panem, where the price of the latest hairstyle or the newest electronic gadget became bigger concerns than feeding the hungry or clothing the naked, I remembered something that my father told me when I was very young:

'_You are so much more than your family's history. Never, let your name stand in your way.'_

I thought about what that meant. I thought how even though my great-grandfather was an evil man, I am related to his victims as much as to his tyranny, both through blood and by marriage. My great aunt and uncle, my adopted grandmother and grandfather, and my wife's grandmother all were survivors of the Hunger Games who fought for this nation during the Revolution, and my father , my mother-in-law, and father-in-law all fought for us during the great TEC war.

Then, I finally realized that all this, while important, is not as important as WHO WE CHOOSE TO BE! Do we want to live by what we once were, or do we want to forge new and great chapters in our own time!" The crowd erupts in a cheer. Octavian graciously waits for them to calm down before starting again. "I think that my family history is a perfect metaphor for Panem. Yes, there are dark things that we must learn from, but they blend together with the glorious examples of self-sacrifice, courage, and honor that truly define us.

There are those who say that Panem's best days are behind us. That we have squandered the gifts our ancestors fought to provide us and have become the same indolent fools who left themselves to be ruled by tyranny, violence, and hate for so long…._but I disagree_. I think that the spirit that defined those who fought for our freedom, and then those who bestowed that freedom on another continent enslaved by evil men still runs strong within us! Britannia and the rest of the Independent Republics of Europe are now our closest allies. I have already conferred with their leaders and they all agree with my goals.

There are still those around the planet who have not yet felt freedom's warm embrace. They still live in poverty, in fear, in hopelessness, and in oppression. We, who now enjoy the gifts of those who sacrificed before us cannot in good conscience turn our backs on them, not when we claim as a nation to love and embrace our sacred liberty so much. I ask for the help of the brave peoples of Panem in fulfilling a solemn pledge. Centuries ago, the United Districts of Panem was once a land that was a beacon of hope, freedom, and prosperity to the entire rest of the world. _Now, I want to make it that once again._

Many of us are now too young to recall the times when oppression, poverty, and hunger were here. Times when children had to choose between facing a horrific, agonizing, and public death in the arena or watching their family starve to death in private. But what I want us to remember is far more important. I want us to remember our blessings, work to increase our gifts, and fight to spread them to all fellow members of humanity regardless of nationality, race, or creed! If we do this, then the odds will truly be ever in our favor…

THE REVOLUTION IS NOW IN OUR HANDS!

THE END


End file.
